Tag Archives: love

Another Revenge-Fueled Haircutting

Whose advice did you follow?

‘Cause it ain’t mine.

Whose bad idea did you swallow–

Or are you really out of your mind?!

You’re not taking me down!

Didn’t break my back for your sake.

I didn’t go outta my way to clean ground

To sweep up your mistakes!

You think you know me?

You can’t even see my shadow,

Enveloping.

What do you know, Jezebel Above?

What do you know about love?

What do you know, Delilah Above?

What do you think you know about love?

Advertisements

As Far As You Go, I Will Follow

Ties that bind?

Binds that show

Family roots in blood grow.

Taller we get–

We tower so high–

Or spread so like

Wildfire-wide.

You need me

Like I just need:

Like food, like water

Like all we breathe.

You hold me tight.

I’ll take that blade.

There aren’t many bad things

I can’t unmake.

I don’t regret

What can’t be undone.

Take me down to

Where the red rivers run.

Blind my eyes.

Hide my soul.

Before your shine

I’m dust and coal.

Ties that bind

Are binds that show.

Violence is forgotten, sown–

The Family that roots in blood

Only grows.

But I Know What I Like

Real talk, Lover.
I know you’re goin’ away.
I could make promises worth keeping,
but shit would just put you to shame.

You’re worth more
than all of my empty swears.
You seem to think–
At least you see–
All my soul is yours to bear.

You
know
me.

You
know
me.

To only you
I am a painting.
But to me, I’m a too-thick book
who don’t deserve a second look.
A movie with no second screening.

Oh no.

Set aside all my lies.
Set aside all my wayward glances.
Your words hit me in the guts every time…
like you don’t know they are lances.

But you know me.

I’ll Make My Bed and Sleep in it Alone

I’m out on the veranda
Smoking my last cigarette
Watching the smoke curl around the moon
Being “thankful” that we met

Since you’re coming home
The liquor’s going down the sink
Gotta say goodbye to my old friends
Say goodbye to the drink

Life was going great for me
Now I guess I’ll be just fine
Since you talked with Ma and Pa
They tell me you’re so kind

Why do you
Make me feel so blue
Why do I feel so sad
I should be flying to the moon
‘Cause someone actually came back

Sunday will come, Sunday class
You’ll twirl me around like a ball
I’ll smile, I’ll wave, I won’t misbehave
I’ll be too damn done to fight being a doll

You’re gonna burn all my books
You’re gonna toss out my wires
You’ll kiss my forehead
Your “love” will take me higher

Old friends’ll reach out
“He’s not good for your health!”
Oh, but you’ll dust me off, pretty me up
And set me on a shelf

But why do you
Make me feel blue
Why am I so fucking sad
No one’s ever forgiven me
After I was so bitter and mad
And I’m supposed to feel better
You’re gonna make me so glad
But why am I just looking to escape
Run and try to erase those faces
You show me in private places and chase…
That ache out of me that
Loves that you came back

But why did it have to be you that came back?

I take to the kitchen
Smoking a damn cigarette
Watching the smoke curl around the room
I pour a shot of Jack
You can bet
I don’t want you

You’re an ass

DTP 11: The Phone-less Phonebooth

There’s a glassy membrane over them, the circle members. Like the shell of a translucent egg waiting to be split open. “Ask us our secrets and we may tell,” they seem to promise behind their perfectly manicured faces, their dilated eyes, their shining hair, their debonair smiles… 

Caerawyn knows her curiosity is born out of her revulsion–a paradox of fascination overlaying the very real horror of her circumstances. She is dancing and drinking and mingling with these members of the circle. She even likes their lusty glances and their open infatuation with her and how they think she thinks.

The only two human beings in the stadium ballroom are Caera and Balen, surely. 

Balen seems to be the only one in the room who has a problem with this fact, but he’s not keen to voice such opinions until he and Caerwyn are firmly squished into the hotel phonebooth (which is not surprisingly missing its phone) away from wandering eyes and idle ears.

“This is crazy,” he hisses, sounding almost like a member. “What in the hell are we doing here?! We need to get out. You can’t be so… You know they just want to eat you, right?”

Caerwyn’s eyes blink rapidly in annoyance. “Please.” She sighs then to cut him off. “Balen, of course they want to eat us. We look amazing,” she says airily, then her expression darkens. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to stop them…”

Her cohort, sharing breath, squished into her, feeling both uncomfortable with their situation and their situation, resigns himself with a groan of utter loathing and affection. “Dammit… Yeah, I do, but how the hell are we gonna go about it now? We didn’t plan on so many.”

Caerwyn smiles. “Dance, Balen,” she says with a purr, slipping past him, sashaying back toward the siren’s call of house music.

The synthetic jazz seems to whisper, “Come and see…”

Caera turns slightly to look over her shoulder and that’s when Balen belatedly decides his other half is probably drunk and cleaning up after her future social misfires is the least of his worries. (The paramount worry pacing through his head is that Caerwyn will die at the hands of some rather insidious circle members and he will be left in a state of catatonic shock for the rest of his life. He entertains the image before swallowing it with the same unease one would exhibit imbibing a cyanide capsule.)

His platinum beauty, his companion, his… Gone? Never.

She grins at him, almost admonishing, and the hallway disappears for just a moment. Hers is a face that will haunt him before it even has a ghost to haunt him with. “Balen,” she chides, “there’s one thing I’m beginning to understand about these creeps… They’re basically children.”

Before he can dissect this comparison–rather, before he can poke holes in it–his partner chuckles.

“And kids… Kids always play with their food first. Let’s make it worth their while.”

“You’re like a pyro with matches,” is all he can say in return.

Caerwyn shrugs. “‘Least we’re both aware fire burns.”

“Pretty sure that makes us idiots,” Balen says, but he’s already agreed with her and she knows it. Despite his denial, he has it too–that paradoxical sickness–that fascination with the macabre–that itch that needs to be scratched. But he also knows such wayward investigators rarely live beyond their first encounter with the unnatural. “Curiosity killed the cat…”

“But satisfaction brought it back,” Caera snaps back with a wicked smirk.

“Downside to your plan: We two do not have nine lives, even between the two of us.”

Caerwyn, white dress, icy complexion, warm smile, sunny disposition, steadfast, bullheaded, and sad… links an arm through his and winks. “Guess we’ll have to improvise.”

Downtown Platinum (c)2017 Karin Mayville 
Find out more at Downtown Platinum on Facebook.

DTP 10: My Dear Humanity, I Knew Her Well

Heart, pumping in my hands–
What were you before?
Did you leave a happy life?
Did you always strive for more?
Did you yearn and did you pull
If something really caught your eye?
Did you sacrifice with good intentions?
Did you rightly vilify?
Did you rend and did you tear?
Did you bend? Did you bear?
Did you wake in the middle of the night,
Blind, sweating, filled with utmost care?
Did you weep?
Did you creep?
Did you seap?
Did you sleep?
I guess it doesn’t matter, you–
Heart, pumping in my hands–
You pour, you leak, and you spatter.
Time won’t heal wounds wrought by these hands–
Not anymore.
I said:
“It doesn’t matter.”

Downtown Platinum (c)2017 Karin Mayville 
Find out more at Downtown Platinum on Facebook.