by a wind

he was there
on the cusp of
something wonderful

watching it unfurl
mesmerizing
and
pure

but he stepped away
and refused the jump
he looked
before he fell
and he missed the

moment

white

when the filth of
a thousand years
smears down their hands

when the dirt of
a thousand deaths
is under their nails

when the cry of
a thousand children
rings in their ears

when the blood of
a thousand tears
runs down their streets

will they beg for a return to
ephemeral innocence?

kid at heart

one time
in fifth grade
there was a boy
that i
liked
his name was
chris
and he had
hair the color
of fire
and oh boy
did he set
my tiny little
kid heart
ablaze
and i could
tell
i could
tell
he liked me
too
and he asked
one day
"who
do you like?"
and he guessed:
"josh?"
no
"matt?"
no
"jp?"
no
and i was
a fool
and he asked:
"me?"
and i said
no
and i was
a fool
and even to this day
i am still
a fool

i who fly

if distance is what i need
will you gladly provide it
and if my wild soul feels
that bonds are forming 'round my
artists' wrists and manacles 'round
my ankles yearning to bend in movement
then will you give way and set me free
from the tethers of your heart and
watch me wander into the glow of day?

he who flies

if distance is what you need
i will gladly provide it
and if your wild soul feels
that bonds are forming 'round your
artists' wrists and manacles 'round
your ankles yearning to bend in movement
then i will give way and set you free
from the tethers of my heart and
watch you wander into the glow of day

Pearl

"My name is Pearl and I'll love you the best way I know how, but I've got so much wickedness and sin."

***

As the moon filtered in through the salt encrusted window of their seaside home, Pearl gazed at her lover.

Having just come in from the port, he had promptly fallen asleep after eating supper and making love.

Pearl gazed down at him and marveled at his beauty. Perhaps, perhaps this is what drew her to him. His beauty shone and almost blinded her. She remembered the first time she had settled her cold, murky eyes upon him from under her world of water. His lean build, his tanned skin, his ease of movement.

She loved how he moved. He had such a fluidity about his every gesture that she couldn't help but think of a river, a brook, an ocean calmly rippling. Even in the throes of passion, his every action imitated the smoothness of water.

That night, when they their limbs and souls intertwined (had Pearl a soul? she had always liked to think so), Pearl allowed herself to dig deep into the sweat-slicked skin of his back. She dug deep into his flesh, drawing blood that stained her fingertips.

Now, her fingers slowly smoothed his hair from his forehead. The house creaked with the howling of the winds. But beneath the gales, she sensed another call, the song of her kin.

Her frigid blood began to sing within her veins. She wished he would open his eyes once more, so that she could see his eyes, a deep blue, a warm blue, a blue that she had never seen even in her sea.

She bent over him, cradling his face in her arms, and watched as her black waving hair covered his neck and face, like seaweed entangling and strangling him.

And as she buried the dagger deep into his breast, she choked on her heart.