She was like a humming bird:
soft, light fleeting-
the perfect escape artist.
Speaking in riddles
that keep you up at night.
Face changer and witch,
she draws you close, holds you so
and then lets go without warning.
You can only get so close,
before she turns her back.
Every time a bit closer,
every time more sting
from the rubber-band of goodbye.
Sinking down further into her sea
she washes over you,
drowning you in the intoxication
of her salt.
She melts in your mouth,
Pixie Stix style;
sweet, but gone
before you can really enjoy the taste.
You press rewind
on your memory:
looking, searching for any glimmer
of her, any flash,
anything to keep her close;
even for only a moment longer.
She wears a mask:
masquerade half-faced,
with feathers and glitter,
ribbons hanging from the left.
She's perfected
this porcelain-painted facade.
Under the disguise
she defies the conception
of beauty.
Thinking her virtue lies
in the mask.
She lies in the mask.
She fades in and out
like the morning fog
over the ocean.
Rushing in
and falling away
once the sun rays hit the water.
The crash enfolds her;
she lets it.
Skin and bone she bleeds
for everyone who ever hurt her,
taking the blade to the skin
she lets them all win.
Playing a loser's hand,
all chips in,
she gives herself over
as payment for who she is.
***** and unworthy;
painfully aware of
her chemical circumstance,
she runs from the torment.
Into a forest of lost time
remaining hidden,
she tries to die
but ever-still;
she remains.
Females are magic. Inspired by the magnificence and madness of the miracle that is, The Woman.
