Song For Yesterday

A Boy With Roses

Our skin tells us a thousand stories about lust and torture. Each time I listen, I feel like I'm closer to you, almost as if I know you, but you lived and died as sad as you breathed long before my terrible birth. 

You pitied the angels and exploded into marigold and indigo, the city traffic, the morning fog. Your tears like petals. Oh how I loved you. My whore, my daddy. Perfectly placed in my mind. There is beauty in how we decay, how we write oceans and bloom like bad habits. They make factories for people like us, perverts and dreamers. It's true, I walk past hotels and dream of us. 

I close my eyes and I see you naked, unwrapping me like a Christmas present, touching my body like it's braille, like I belong to you and only you. I fall deeper into you, laying next to you. Shy but brazen. I looked into your eyes and I saw nothing so I locked you in a fish tank and fed you to an ocean. I hoped you would drown in that deep blue swimming pool and rise like Icarus or Picasso, but you faded like cigarette ash into a glittering moonlight. 

  • Author: Jordan Cash (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: November 30th, 2022 13:05
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 19
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors

Comments +


To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.