TheCourtRose

She is the spark firelight girl Tall shot of whiskey in the dark Careful of the electricity and amber lined eyes It's all distraction from the stark relief yellow on sidewalk cracked black She's lost before, you see Her wild dance so careful in reality When she throws her head back, underneath lightning strikes and molten gold tongue, is overwhelming deep

Your car sat outside my building for a moment or two Making a call, lighting a cigarette I need to believe that you were catching your breath Put my head against the cracked wall, bracing my palms on the cool, cascading plaster Not able to go up, not yet with the stairs so dark You're you, I'm me We are who we are and again I am facing a stairway " I love you " I had said "For every step in your building, I love you For every right foot and left foot, I love you I love you, a thousand times, in a million places In ten years of memory, I love you" My building, this time, not yours Going up and not down Leaving your car a woman instead of a girl Things have changed, but not this tornado of starlight Every step up these stairs is a step away, but closer to something else Closer to who I'm meant to be Irony, yes, that I finally see me as you always have Too late Words, so furious in my lips and hands, are slow to come tonight...

Stealing pomegranates from my lips a mouthful a swollen throat Pulling, pulling tart skin and seed, juice between teeth bleeding red worlds Is this my pulse or yours? Your pomegranate or mine? In the great exchange of flesh and bone, lips bow before hunger like forbidden fruit

My hands are clumsy, overwhelming tendencies to drop piles of dishes (Literal piles) Nothing fragile is safe from this constant state of shifting My platelets of blood clink against each other Porcelain red disks jolting, fighting towards the surface for the rush of first blush Streams of blood, crowded waters fluxing beneath overlapping tiles of skin, protein, sebum and ink Balancing scales protecting the world beneath, the fissures emerging from deep under flesh, from the darkest, wildest recesses of body Dishes piled one on top of the other When the wall tumbles down and your body hits dirt One crack is easy to fix, maybe two But this heart wonders, what about three? or four? or the truly, truly shattered