Once upon a time I pushed you out of me to become my perfect love
I wrote and spun and performed for you and you put my pieces in glass domes.
And when the sun shone thru the glass of a thousand captured words, the population fled for fear of the queer colored lights.
They waited just beyond the ivy and roses, peek a booing around leafy corners longing to go back home.
Why have you forsaken us and emptied your words from the sky?
Their finger tips berried the wall of swaying verdant as they called out to me, to you Let us return and trump these fantastical prisms.
You were married to the glass. You disregarded their cries.
Spinning words stopped being an option and you cursed the sky why why why has the beauty stopped, why?
I need them. I must fill all vacancies.
This he told me with a white knuckled grip on me in atrophy of the scribe machine.
Since change is inevitable, I’m Queen of this dream (was he listening?). Even if you sought obliteration, I can no longer reach the sky.
Crucify your muse! Poor baby!
You knew I was an artist, bitch and ironically scream ‘tear down the wall!’
The spider webs spread from end to end. they were gone (had you burned down everything?).
Reincarnation. I beg of thee.