rubynothing
A thick gathering of flowers and shrubs cornered the yard, and she sat there happily, fingers roping down the page of her notebook. Sunshine ripped across the dirt-scented air in the most charming way, and she found an equally unsettling and settling feeling that she would always be alone.
The bright, fuzzy lights nearly blinded her as she stood, so she quickly placed her cup on the table and ran outside, the quiet, unheard voice of the world whirring in her ear.
She stared, mouth agape, as peach-colored sunlight staggered through the window and toppled viciously over her knees. Steam spurred from the kettle with the chipped paint and she waited for everything to align again, only it didn't.
Oh. I can feel you underneath me, dispersing, white and paling with your skin turning into a shrill whisper. it's always been like this: the strewn clothes like leaves, the guilt in your eyes. it goes like this: the wheels spin faster and faster and the lipstick prints I leave like paw tracks turn into a sign of how dirty I am, how I rubbed my feet across you like you were a carpet. I suppose everyone has their own reason for leaving.
The naked eye cannot see your skin the way I do. The naked morning is undressing and redressing and I can feel myself hanging my head the way a weeping willow lets its' hair drape in green wisps. I can feel myself becoming rotten, feel my mother's judgement around my neck like a pearl choker.
lips plump with ruby, stretching over cotton-colored teeth,
pearls hidden inside sealed clams sitting
underneath the thick ocean sheets.
my mother makes beds out of church pews and waits
for god to comb her hair, i sit alone on the floor with flowers strung along
my wrists,
candles aching to a stop, and i
wait for her to
how lonely i am