Sunshine
"Take your sunset out of my rise"
- Buddy Wakefield
She drank until I fell in love with the
Poet she had become. Until the black blanket that stretched its back
Upon her ceiling, collapsed upon her breasts like stars
Diving for their burst.
She smoked stanzas into her lungs and stitched the
Tobacco into her seams and exhaled,
‘Death is addicted to me’
Because no one loved the Death she wore around
Her wrists.
She drank until I reminded her of the Father
She never had. The one who stole her ink,
And used it in the cheap motel rooms where women,
Like herself, rode the last print.
And when she was out of cigarettes, she watched
Porn and wrote about the gasping full stops
That were written across the young girl’s mouth,
And how it reminded her of herself for when she fucked
For Little Red Riding Hood to be given her own axe.
She drank until she took off her mask and
Read out her thoughts whilst being embraced
By a man who called her Sunshine.
She drank until I bled into her words and drowned in her
Voice. Until weeping willows could not howl louder but
Dance beneath the moon’s fingers that entwined
In her cuts.
She burned her lips whilst smoking her last cigarette because
She wanted something new to write about,
Apart from the sun that springs
From her skies
And masks behind his wooden doll eyes.
She drank at her own funeral.
The one she planned in her head.
Because her echos were the whispers in the libraries,
And her chapters filled the empty space between my ribs.
Her smoke cracked the surface of my lips,
Because I fell in love with a Poet I have never
Heard of.
She wrote that I were to forever live on in her words.
She forever lived in my lungs.
(2013)
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