Sincerely, Jennifer x

Sweet Scorpio,

whispering and wandering,

the shadow of your shoulders swallows me whole,

and I am at the mercy of a pretty party girl.

My dearest love.

My dearest sickness.

While the moon moves, divine and decided,

we watch our wicked dreams,

weaved by witchcraft.

This is inevitable.

I have walked this path,

met and romanced by moonshine.

I stumble,

shuddering and shimmering in your arms.

Beguiled by time,

tempting and tumultuous.

You, my innocent flower,

my sovereign servant,

hold me in your awe,

glacial in your gaze,

trembling for tanned arms that have seen softer summers,

returning to the valley of my aching embrace as the leaves fall.

You are not my mother,

nor my grave.

You are my soul,

so deep within me,

so far gone that it confounds me.

I have no words.

My voice is in my fingertips,

so shy,

stammering as they survey your soft lips.

This is my land.

I am her ruler,

reluctant protector,

and slave.

You’ve been kissing boys,

making them cry,

making a mess of my home,

falling all over your shoes,

slathering me with those lips,

and all their secrets,

while I dine on my dejection.

I have been lost,

looking for love in the lairs of lies for the longest time,

and sometimes,

I begin to believe that I am of your rib,

and my dreams are an orchard of apples.