You hold the tip of the stick over
the flame and wait for the marshmallow to
melt with pain.
Next light a candle and lick your
fingers before they pass over the wick.
Did you feel it?
Did it burn?
I know you own many books
on the Salem witches and their bonfires.
You read them when no one’s home.
You press cigarettes to your arm when you think
I asked you once if you thought
that you were a witch.
You thought I was a child.
You started closing your blinds. And maybe that’s better.
When you went missing, it was like you were already gone.
I feel her reading over
Her hands rest on top
of my head.
She likes touching.
She reaches around me and scrolls
My confession reflects in her eyes.
Her bubblegum lips form
It doesn’t matter what they say. Her voice
Lull me to sleep, Miss Lullaby.
She only listens to sad songs.
They mean things.
She doesn’t realize how much she doesn’t smile,
People call her boring.
Happy bores her.
Only the lowest lows allow the highest highs.
So she feels everything,
takes in all of the pain
and holds it.
Only when she breaks can she hit the manic stage.
Absence is harder to notice,
the words not said,
the face unseen among so many.
How do the cogs work
in the machine?
My name will never cross lips.
Not when being with her is cocaine.
Ingest her and she fills you.
She fills your life, making every moment beautiful.
She plays with your hair, does your make-up, makes you feel special.
The clock still ticks
when the face breaks.
Thin girl wears your clothes
and repeats your words back to you.
You’re her doll.
And you want it.
It smells like Fall now,
bonfires and dead leaves.
Beneath my jacket, the skin on my arms bubbles,
trying to fend off the cold.
In a year, I’ll have to know
where I’m going and
I’m already scared.
Fog cuts off the sidewalk in front of me.
Good thing I’m walking.
I want you to be standing on the corner,
right where the sidewalk turns.
I want to navigate together not just because
doing it alone makes my throat close
but because it’s pointless without you.
My feet slap against the pavement.
Too late to turn around.
Phantom fingers from the past pull me
Or they try.
That girl’s gone.
Every year the autumn whisper
whistles over hills and vales,
bringing word of fairy dances
and the fair folk lore and tales.
Never resting, pixie feet will dance until the dawn,
rhythmic stepping, twirling, prancing ever on and on.
“Invite the mortals,” they all jeer
but never make it past a sneer.
You’re the first invited in
and never will you leave again.
Accept your fate. Accept your lot.
You’ll keep dancing til you rot.
Trilling keys of the piano
And spring blooms
Take me to a Victorian garden, a life that’s not
and the brassy sound of a marching band
take me to high school
when marching made me strong.
snow coating everything
take me home
to being little when nothing mattered,
when nothing was real.
And summer brings me to you,
the time we were most separated
and the time I almost lost you.
Sun screen and swim suites and part-time jobs.
And none of it matters without you.
It’s like standing on the train tracks,
the headlights filling your eyes as it bares down on you.
The sound splits to the sides, skipping your
The vibrations shake your foundation.
Too late to jump off the tracks.
It’s like waiting to board the plane,
the sun setting down the runway.
You’re going somewhere you’ve never been,
and you don’t have a return flight.
Or maybe it’s like living normally,
except everything cuts off.
Without warning, you’re sitting in the living room,
and then it’s dark.
There’s no replay of your life,
no time for a final thought.
Just the power button turning off.
Follow all of these directions exactly. No substitutions. No changes.
blood of the enemy
three dead hearts- Disclaimer: These cannot be animal hearts or child hearts. They must vary from the youngest to the oldest person he would cheat on you with. They should all be female hearts if he would be cheating on you with a female.
cigarettes smoked by you and him
his fluids- interpret as you will
Mix it all in an electric mixer.
Add it to a cake mix.
Feed him the cake.
Feed her the cake.
If they don’t get sick, they’re cheating.
DON’T EAT THE CAKE.
Blood trickles up her forehead We flipped.
from the corner of her mouth, along her I think we hit a tree.
nose. There were headlights.
My sister stares back at me, Or was it a deer?
mouth open in a scream Light reflecting back
and eyes unblinking. From the deer’s eyes.