Paint Her
these dead roses
you brought me tonight
as the rain was pouring down
lady bic on my veins
might bloom tomorrow
or the next day
with your running eye liner
and reasons for living
sit back on my Black
living room furniture
a love seat for one
cramming me in the buttons
finding me in the cracks
I'm oblivious to you
and you know it
fingerpainting bloody children on my walls
your smirk is permanently etched into the back of my head
in the back of my mind
is a lullaby
singing you to Death
a sleep
safer than the one you'll find in my eyes
but you continue to sit
legs crossed
smoking a cigarette
ashing in that tray you claimed you made
one year ago
in the fourth grade
it always did make me smile
smashing my bad habits
into you
and
i see the way your red hair
tangles around your face
too intense to bother
too fragile to smother
rubbing your brains and blood
on four monkey canvases
creating an exodus of children
running from things created in your high
I see you not glancing at me
or my
soggy roses and dreams
but you know I'm here
back from the dead
where I
came running to be punished
after
hearing your dog whistle
blow
Back