with black and purple hair
metallic blue nail polish
and skin made from the milk of moons.
She left the smell of cloves
rubbed into my clothes
and was always on the move.
Her name was Jesse
"like Jesse James" she would say.
She'd see things no one else could,
she'd hear things no one else should
and she sang so nectarous
seeing her always made me smile.
I miss the twist of her clover kiss
I miss her shoulder when it rains
She left the world
not just me,
and I am still in love with our pain.
She's a bullet and feather
and she never looked better
than dreamily sitting on my bed.
We are still dancing somewhere.
We're love children and madmen.
I've never loved more
Than the punk angel I adore
and the midnight laugh I won't hear again.
Rest In Peace 6.28.80-4.16.98
No comments:
Post a Comment