(All standard Disclaimers apply.)
We laid, rotting, in the womb, together. I wondered when our skin had moulded into blood. I shoved you aside, drinking in the sweet nectar. I wrapped the placenta around your neck, in silken folds, choking you. You held on, through the web of your fingers…keeping this beast…slouching to be born…
Is that why you were born with barbed wire around your nipples and broken glass beads in your eyes?
*
At your awakening, you came to me with wind in your hair and desire on your lips. You weren't a nymph. Your baby fat had melted. Your wings burned through my skin, tattooing your desire all over my skin. I gazed at you through the kaleidoscope of metamorphosis. I tore you from the heaven above, the filaments of paradise clung to your skin like scorched sunbeams. The universe cracked and split over your head. Winter closed us in. I broke two of your fingers amidst the virgin snow. I slammed your face into the earth. Taste this, taste this, taste this…your face came up, caked with earth.
You had a tulip in your moth- a lover's heart, burned to the core.
*
During the months that followed you got passed from one bed to another. You urged them to put it in each time, saying: "It will make us more intimate." You never came with any of them. Afterwards you left, their juices running down your legs, insubstantial, like the illusions rotting in their souls.
You sat on my bed, legs parted. We both knew what you wanted. This dog-like coupling is our way of weeping together. Your skin unfolded as we rocked together. Nameless women howled and mourned in the distance. Their songs were tombstones.
*
I threw you in a well leading to the ocean. You walked through the glass covering the well, leaving a translucent film of blood tracing the jagged peaces. I felt the tides of underworld embracing you, whispering: "We shall marry by the shores of the sea."
*
I find you crushed and broken on the virgin snow. More beautiful than I have ever seen you. You have undergone sea change. I put your limbs of pearl and moonlight in the tub. I wash the baby fine hair on the nape of your neck, with bubble gum shampoo. I rock you against my bosom, and you are asleep, as I coyly pierce your heart with the knife. It was inevitable, that you would pick your heart, and not your finger, with the needle. The curse prevails. I am your cradle now. The night has looped back on itself and there are bruised dots in the sky, where there used to be stars. I am chanting: "May the grass you walk on be soft, May the sky above be always clear…"