Undergrowth

Painting by Amy Judd

Painting by Amy Judd

Things Change. The bad, and the good.

Nightmares are made of the last time she said she loved you, lips that don’t curl up at the edges reaching eyes that seem cold you’re overreacting stop overreacting you’re imagining things don’t be so paranoid.

You tried not to see it coming through the little holes that wore through the sense of security you used to use as an umbrella when the weather turned, but now drip drip dripping lets in the waters of ‘no, I’m fine, everything’s fine, it’s fine ‘ Earth Angel.

I can see blood diamond patterns on your skin, discount rubies sewn in behind sweater sleeves.

Tell me the timbre of blackened oak forests in your head, arid visions take boreality up from the roots now that weakness has undergone a personality crisis.

Slow and steady, nothing stays the same.

There’s a widening valley between us, created in the mind for a heart to gaze across the distance may be too great, and though we watch each other wordless, the voices in my head are screaming.

I’m questioning what I believe in, lie awake at night my skin is crawling and my mind is teeming

White noise on my mind, my heart is sinking stomach acid eating everything I thought I held as anything worth holding meaning Earth Angel!

Things change always, spring blossoms whither by winter winds, cold kills everything eventually I’m shivering earth angel but I’ll tell you I’m too warm, move away a little bit.

And beneath the brewing storm my teeth are tombstones, guardians of a spirit world where lie the ghosts of everything I never said reaching through the metaphysical, thoughts begging to be made material though I bit my teeth together to hold them back.

So maybe all you ever knew was half a person made whole by false assumptions in your head, broken pieces of the truth made out of words I, may have said, I don’t remember anymore.

I’ m immaterial in a walking vessel of bone and blood wandering the streets in the changeling time after dusk.

When I come home Kiss me, and you’ll taste blood and think it’s someone else’s, but it’s mine.

And though you’ll nod and smile you’ll wonder at the things I don’t tell you.

Is this physical proof of gnawing doubts? now the seed is planted and like a weed taking over will grow and consume until there is nothing beautiful left between us.

Earth angel, we were not meant for this mortal plane.

We cannot grow together .

But maybe with space and sunlight, we could see each other bloom, in another life.

By: Joy Low Key


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