We couldn't climb trees,
and i never kissed you,
We sang songs,
and i played along
and i thought, this way,
this is something i could love.
and maybe thats wrong.
its an agony,
taking a siren from the sea,
love is cruel,
a bitter tonic for an uncured ill.
and i thought, this way,
this isnt something i want.
and maybe thats wrong, but its also right.
And its written History,
all things: to be or not to be.
And no one taught us the right questions,
so we’ve gotten lost in the asking.
And they stumble to save us,
prevent us from harm,
but I’m grown,
let me fall on my own.
And love is something to want,
to live for, to die for.
and I am no Hercules,
but wasn’t Hera loved, before she was
the jealous wife?
and they tell me its wrong, these things i say.
Calm down and wish it away.
i only wish that it wasntwrongtoforgethowtolove.
If there is anything in this world,
it is the glimmering of happiness,
but thats only in this world.
I love Orion, and i am incomplete,
until i see his belt across the sky,
like clothing discarded,
in a lover’s heap,
ursa major dances across the sky,
seductive to my mind.
And why must love equate to sex
when so many people want it, and have it for less.
Why must i love, and if i do,
why must it be something else too.
There are things in this world,
but, what is beautiful.
is it the scent of lemongrass in my hair?
lavender soap and lye.
is it in my unmarked face?
and must we fear the meaning of a scar,
how a line on my wrist
is a laundry list
of health and disputes of mind.
of a history darkened and
images of a knife,
when really its from an iron,
when i bent to catch a shirt,
and all i wanted was to look professional.
blood hasnt left my body through a scar,
through a hole that lets my stardust out,
We dont call them witches anymore,
just plain freaks,
and we dont hang women anymore,
for being single and owning land
supernovas who burnt too fast, too hard,
the stake fires have blinked out of sight.
and we quake and shake and quiver
and night terrors lurk,
and how does a burned woman feel?
the smell of my hair aflame, sent them running,
and as my skin bubbled and melted and
warped, like plastic under too much heat.
pinpricks and rivers and drowning,
and when i was thirteen i almost remembered
my scaled sisters, singing me down to the sea.
and at five it was so easy, so free
simple as could be,
to close my eyes, and let the water over take me.
and mother, she reached out and pulled me up.
and the adventure was done.
and i breathed in and looked at the sun.
and the only things that have ever hurt
fire and brimstone
sea and sun.
and i wonder,
if love isnt one of those too.
and if you love it, let it go,
and no one ive known,
had the strength to do so.
and they take, and hold
horde like gold.
and smaug at least took it from a
and dragons, i adore, but i
dont like humans
I’m sorry, but the color doesnt suit you.
and My name
and i haven’t met a boy
who had an ounce of rhyme
and the only boys i know who can sing,
dont need faeries, and elf kisses,
because music’s magic all its own.
(This isn't the Ballad of Tam Lin,)
and why does she need
to love him
to save a soul
Why cant i, out of sheer
And the only Carter, that i care for,
its a tv show set in the 40s,
about a woman who’s
lost a man in time,
and is prepared to go on living.
(where Howard is the prince charming, hunting for his snow white,
because Peggy knows how to grieve,
and Starks are only good as wannabe-dragons.
and what good are fathers who have other dreams…)
and panic, and fear,
those legendary moons,
watch like misshapen eyes, circling the red planet,
glaring like a dried up star,
as we cut and stunt
and destroy all that we hold dear.
and silently they scream,
why can’t you see me.
from our mistakes.
and you should know
curiosity sang itself
all a l o n e ,
far from home.
and i am not curiosity,
nor am i alice,
lost following the rabbits,
because i have a german shepard,
and none of them are close enough to see.
so, pity on me,
for never meeting the hatter
and sitting down to tea
and we’ve romanticized him,
made him larger than life,
and he is bright, almost as powerful as the red queen,
in our personal mythology.
and I’ll put his name alongside the Chimera
and the Queen of Elphame,
the Goblin King,
and snow white can keep her heart,
and Cinderella can marry her prince, as
her sisters keep their toes.
and Rapunzel, let down your long hair,
let out your dress’ seams,
cause Mummy Dearest isn’t a fool,
she knows where a baby comes from,
and again, love circles back, and equates to sex.
and can i not keep something for me?