Maccabree

Holding hands and blowing kisses,
Constant replayed cliches,
Sacrifices meant to be paid,
Frolic across charred cement,
Happiness compresses broken up scenes,
Like, smiling after a fucked up dream,
Alleviated and elevated we surface,
Gasping for polluted air,
We fill our half-empty selves,
Only to float beyond the sphere,
Up up up, no abrupt turns,
Tears fall into our lashes,
Burn holes into our soul,
Staining space with white drops,
Fluorescent paint always glows,
Together we fall,
At the same pace to infinity.

In the corner we reside,
Physical touch extinguishes verbal words,
The wall tilts and within our shadows we slip,
Shape shifting figures glide across our flesh,
Like colliding bullets we implode,
Wounds bleed deep,
Exposing red against black,
Strings of color bring us together,
Laugh now gentle heart,
Scream to the beings,
And with frightened eyes they scatter,
To be left alone,
The wall descends in the distance,
Like a firefly the entrance dims,
With no exit we have eternity,
Together we fall,
At the same pace to infinity.

Sentimental speech substitutes silence,
Filling polluted air with comfort,
Please,
Everlasting sentence proceed,
Clean the air I breathe,
Laugh now healthy lungs,
Exhale the emotion we need,
Deep relaxation soon follows,
Half-heartedly we smile,
And forever will it linger.

With lips up,
fell the frame of a rose,
stem down the throat.
Systematic salivating,
pours pressure atop the sliding stalk,
Watering it within its new pot.

Tapered thorns pierce ceramic walls,
Thin burgundy dew drops fall,
Tainting the soul with stains of shame,
Painting the clay with cracks of pain.
Forbidden from speech,
A scream is choked
As the air drinks blood from the dirt.

A rotted fence of separate crescents,
Threatens the bud from bloom.
Inhaled clouds cast chemical smog,
Polluting the garden.
Pesticide poisons the prisoner,
Petals break in pieces,
bleeding the dirt dry.

Soil swallows the sorrow,
Suffocating the remembrance in rubble,
Tabula Rosa Tombstone,
Despair departs after death,
And a rose is left.

"For the entirety of my school career I have never possessed a yearbook of my own, nor taken a requested signature so seriously. The few ink-ridden pages that remain stare at me with their blinding white eyes and taunt me with massive lengths of bleak nothingness. Endless possibilities frighten the narrow minded. A blank page will never be a map, only a compass. Which is why no matter the mind I apply behind my words, will I ever be able to convey the significance of your existence upon my own.
I've nothing more to write in fear of undermining the value of our love, please understand the difficulty of such a feat."

-With lots of love, your admirer Brianna