she had words dripping like sweat from her skin and flowy cloth glancing across her shoulder. when it was always summer, she ran along the beach and collapsed into herself, her long gold hair more gold when water hit. her mouth held oceans inside of it, green and blue and off-color lace sewed by the sea.
eyes stitched to every horizon she ever saw, she wondered where her breath would take her after she swallowed the midnight chill. she was perfect and flawed all at once, wrapping her, breathing wind into the feathers in her hair. she'd be in movies and she'd sing with her unreal voice that would sound like the song of the sea and have the beat of native drums. she'd dance prettier than a hummingbird. she sees in full color and when she is sad it's almost happy because she is such a painting, such a perfect girl.
she was my dream.
but dreams just push us father, deeper into fake minds and plastic towns, unbelievable children and birds that always fly in vision. i run from her because she haunts me when i'm alone
so i write about her, compromise with atoms and imagination.
she eats her beauty until i'm empty.
she smiles behind her eyes.
and she didn't know me
how is that?
i wrote her all down myself i know her better than anyone but when she looked at me in the rose room, the iridescent room, she looked through me.
i'm even a ghost in my mind
guess my reality washes off my skin more
til i'm just air