daisy bell

Can you hear my pulse?

The water in my veins has turned to fog

sat steaming on your midnight lake.

I pray to God that you are real

and pray again that you are not.

Your sin is rosy cheeks and butterfly kisses.

My sin is you

were never mine to keep.

Can you hear my pulse?

Because I cannot,

though I feel it thundering beneath my skin

as I watch your lashes fold over ocean eyes.

Is the torrent in your eyes or in my soul?

You ask for candies and breezes,

and daisy chains on summer days.

Ask instead that the waves still.

My dear, we will drown.

Your laughter is unfair.

I suit myself in envy and sit quiet.

I am still sitting here.

I have been sitting here for ages,

watching you run with your arms spread

like you might just catch the wind

and fly far, far away.

I want to slow your movements

so I can pull at your wings

and fasten you to the wall

with the pin of my lapel.

Your sin is bright eyes and smiles with crooked teeth.

My sin is you

look so much like her.