september like
golden afternoons
like autumns on
the tip of your tongue
all honey dripping
and marshmallow tang


summer’s end

there is a thick scent of
nostalgia as the dog days of summer
come to an end.

she gazes
at the world through
honey-tinted glasses and aches

for something more,
to return to the simpleness
of childhood.

perhaps then
she could find
the source of that deep,

deep ache that
only comes around when
autumn winds blow.


many springs have come and gone, but for her, youth is a permanent state of being. flowers never fade beneath her feet. the sun is in her smile. she reminds you of a girl you once knew as a child. come play, she beckons. you follow, feeling the chill of winter fade in her grasp. in her field of eternal spring, you are reborn.

sirens don’t kill; they murder

[the devouring]
blood on her tongue. his still-beating heart, warm in her hands, and love, the sweetest taste, on her lips. a man with glassy eyes and strained breaths, helpless. such a slow devouring, each piece better than the last. fingers licked clean, bloody lips, and a last breath. her crooked smile, his last thought. there is beauty in death when rotten words no longer fall from rotten lips.

[the burial]
her fingers, elegant white bones now claws in his shirt. oh poor soul, better a baptism of blood than a girl’s broken heart. the words of a broken heart with something almost like love. but it vanishes with the body at the bottom of the ocean.

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