Teen Poetry – Phoebe – Untitled

Untitled

Stones that throw wishes that buy stones that can fly.
These are the things that haunt my dreams
Was it? a tear, an edge, a butterfly
I will say this until it crumples at the seams

/so… peaceful/ she might say
Her cold whiskers scent my hand in the night
/? is it habanero?/ with an accent I can’t place
all the while my skin tingling, blood in my eyes

Setting my example by my words by my rhyme
(I keep on trying to shake the feeling)
Looking over shoulders over mountains made of lime
skins discarded peels discarded black grass of liquor ceiling

and still I hear her: /so peaceful, is it?/
/habanero?habanero?/ oh
/so peaceful is it habanero?/ speaking slow
her skin lying over her shoulders like a silk shawl

And Betrayal, naughty with her mannequins and pain
lifts the lid so I can speak through the deed, the sight
But so thick and heavy the scarlet satin stains
Her skin skull shrill chases me over backwards through the night.

–Phoebe, Greenwood, Teen Blogger

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