Tuesday, August 5, 2014

I Should Have Known.

I should have seen her eyes
in your throat.
Should have tasted her on my lips
the night you came and kissed me
under my windowsill.

I should have known the fire was hers because
I’m not flammable, it was her.
It wasn’t ash I became it was myrrh.
A bitter fruit born just to suffer.
Actions speak louder than words
We concur.

You were up in flames and I was cold to the touch
even with your hands roaming my surface.
Your sudden blaze hurt just
as if I had thrown my hand on a fire
and it hurt so much
a cold combusts.

She gave you just enough to light you up
with no love between her thighs.
I guess you needed on last thing to satisfy
your lies.
This inferno, a lack of love will lead to it’s demise.
You turn to me, yet I have seen.
Preheated love, met with goodbyes.

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

First in a long time

I think I could fall in love

with the way you feel in my arms

and the way you breathe

I think I could fall in love

with the way your hand fits in mine

and the way you look at me

I am in love with that perfect smile

and the way you laugh

With every word you speak

haha

and every game you play

I am falling

I am the fallen

~ Ashli

Monday, March 10, 2014

Flaws

Handpicked from a sea of characteristics, 

I am.

There’s no part of me that was artificially placed within my bones, 

under my skin, unless you count the 

retainer cemented to my under smile

so many years ago.

Handpicked from a sea of characteristics,

You are.

There’s no part of you that I can unmake

undo,

unsay,

erase.

The operation table lights up and you don’t hesitate to 

measure the space between my head and my torso

to find out how many things you can fit in there

before you hit the edge

and the game is over.

My nose blinks red over and over again

but I guess we’re not playing the game,

we’re playing games.

And you love to patch me up with things that 

don’t belong. 

I would never try to patch up the things that make you you,

or twist the quirks that tighten your bolts. 

Stay.

Nothing needs to be fixed.

But I guess I was put together wrong. 

I guess someone forgot to match my parts

and found the scraps instead. 

I may be garbage, but I am still me.

I’m your slice of greatness, but not to me.

I’m your sandwiched sweetheart, but not to me.

I’m your princess, but not to me.

I am your slave. 

You fixed the things you didn’t like

on the operating table

and left me out to dry. 

Patched up all my flaws with 

swatches you made with ideas of your 

perfect girl.

I haven’t woken up yet

but something tells me,

even your perfect girl

isn’t what you’re looking for.  

-Toya

Friday, December 20, 2013

Wings

I’m floating.

Limbs walking without direction.

Torso airy and plump. 

My lips don’t feel the cold,

my fingers flutter at the thought of flight. 

A modern day Hermes, 

but what message have I to offer?

Who are the gods now?

What is holy enough to receive

the vicious note I have here

to offer?

I meander the sidewalk, a floating corpse

and here

I spread my wings.

My feathered anklets sprout from

blue doc marten shoes.

Winged peacoat ruffles it’s new coat. 

A loyal spread outstretched on the walkway.

I kneel a heavenly pose between apartment rows.

Slowly stirring each plum feather. 

I pump a wave of air within my berth.

Watch the idle leaves crinkled with snow, quiver. 

Above, the dark sky, clear as the ocean, beckons.

I hear you, whispers I. 

The low tone of the ocean water whistling as I prepare.

A whole minute goes by before I am ready.

I’m warm. Elated.

Shivering with this bulletin for the gods.

Waiting to erupt with power, flight, deliverance.

Heating the concrete around me,

it rises up and my rightful pedestal is formed.

There is no god, I say.

I shoot for the absent heavens and cry out

Dear lord have mercy!

This is not the ivory freedom I imagined—

it is greater.

Divine!

The atmosphere parts at my presence 

lavishing me with the icy glory of the monarch angels that came before me.

A pleasure, I assume.

I can’t imagine a fall. 

I wait for the euphoric sensation to end

but it’s not over until I hit rock bottom.

A cold front slaps the plum fringe right off of me.

Electrifying the richness right out of me.

A brief lingering at the apex of desire

then it’s gone. All gone. 

Wind is taken from my wings,

All hail the mighty gravity.

I should have known I was not a god.

The fall is endless and I can’t look down.

Too far is so far out of my reach.

The Earth is almost soft.

Minutes have fallen away and my frame

echoes in the shape around me.

A crime scene,

of one who thought too much.

Grew wings that weren’t hers.

And held a message she could not carry.

Skeletal wings, hopelessly broken on the sidewalk,

I get up, stagger to my door.

Listen.

The quiet is so much louder when you have heard 

the voice of gods.

Within you, around you.

In the flesh of your own wings,

the fluttering feathers of kings. 

I wonder if the aftermath of hermes

will be followed by human beings.

Thursday, November 28, 2013

For You

It all happened so fast and led up to this

On the 18th,
You kissed me for the first time.
On the 20th,
You wrote.
On the 21st,
You asked me to be with you.
On the 22nd,
We were happier than ever.
On the 23rd,
We ended it, for you.

It all happened so fast and my head is still spinning.

Monday, November 18, 2013

After,

I watched the world come to life.
I drove,
At the peak of exhaustion,
The end of my rope in hand,

I watched.

I saw the sky dance
I saw the clouds grab at each other,
Catch hands and spin.
Run with the moon
Across a powdered sky.

I saw the trees grow fangs.
Gnaw at the air as leaves
Drip from their lips,
Blow across the open road.  

I saw the lines that divide the highway
Grow wings and take off into
The night.
Join the dancing clouds
Or the dark lips of the trees.

They begged at my windows
For me to join them.
Come, fly with me, they said,
As the landed on 
The anchors of bridges
The lamp posts
The guard rails.

I can’t.

But soon, they said
As they drifted towards my heavy lids.
Tonight, they said.
Tonight.

The road became a snake
Winding violently around the forrest.

Pricking it’s fangs at the serpent’s back. 
Only just missing me.

I saw flakes of light
In front of me
Following the serpent’s curve.
I saw angry fireflies
Quickly passing me.

The soft wings of white lines
Flutter at my consciousness.
Tell me to believe
Tell me to fall
Tell me it’s the best way
For both of us.

His face, I saw in the clouds
Spinning with monsters.
The trees kissed his cheeks
And hid their fangs.
The sweet wings gathered ‘round him
Transformed him. Dust. Leaves.

They kindly brush his remains
Across my vision.
My windshield subject to a 
Gentle scrub
Of the broken heart I created.
The best I destroyed.

The snake became a busy street.
The stoplights, blinking eyes,
Questioning my decisions
And searching for recognizable me.

Other beasts flinging by, 
Crawling past the mass of gaping houses,
Screaming silence.
Deafening shouts to me.

I park and step out of my beast.
Nothing.
The ocean, quiet, beckons.
The reality sets in 
And the quiet is intimate.
I turn for home, and let go.
Leaves fall lightly from my hands.

Thursday, October 31, 2013

The Plunge

Beneath the plunge is

the risk.

That neckline reveals 

your daring.

I’ve fallen deep into

that crevice,

unknowingly finding myself

inside. 

Who else can see you, 

O, sweet abyss?

Who else skirts 

the edges

and peaks into your infinite?

The rim I run is thin

and growing thinner

every moment.

Don’t help me, Darkness.

Don’t run me dry, Darling.

I’ve a little left in me

to get a running start.

You are the most cunning of 

sharp edges.

That plunge, the point:

so fine. 

Precise.

It frames the answer

particularly

when the light is just right.

Temptation sounds so sweet

and tastes like 

life. (death)

Feels like 

death. (life)

In between the lines reads:

find me, sunshine.

The point will lead you home. 

How kind of you to open up

and let me in.

Undertaker of mine, 

hold my hand. 

Spin me ‘round.

Harness the darkness I have yet

to realize

and wind me a sweater.

Make it soft and inviting

because all darkness is.

Make a move when designing

for I have nothing else to wear.

Make it for me.

Make it for the jump.

Make it for the hovering moment

right after.

There’s no need for gravity

when you’ve defied it.

That second where nothing is holding you up

or down

is kind.

Merciful.

Misunderstood. 

Looking down and I see 

nothing

but you,

O, Darkness,

and I feel so

free.

Letting go never felt

so

blind. 

Saturday, October 12, 2013

I love you

but not in that way

OK

You’re drunk.

I know. 

I’ll always know.

It’s everywhere

My mind

My heart

My skin

OK

You still don’t get it.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Is It Enough Tonight?

And all I can do tonight 

is hope that the music

and the tears

will be enough

but I’m scared that it may not be

and it’s not you that this is about

it’s about me 

it’s about me and everything

everything before you

before now

am I a coward

or am I strong

when I can hardly breathe

when I have no one to turn to

the dark and music swallow me

and I do nothing

as always

~Ashli

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Romanticized

It’s easy to remember that pain is a lonely virtue because without it, really, none of us are whole.

And isn’t wholesomeness life’s witty comeback that stings?

How deep is that mound. 

How strong is that break. 

How much of the past can you forget to remember?

How sick is the breeze your cheeks felt, eyes of amber. 

A torn December. 

Waves of anger.

Melting pots of mercury, warm and slender.

That sweet poison shimmers and drips onto your innocent lids.

Slides along your impossible lashes and coats the slim bridge of your nose.

I suppose my imagination has gotten the best of me.

Maybe your lies were too late. 

I fell for it anyway.

I took what little you gave me and poured it down my throat.

Sweet mercury burning an unforgettable stream down my throat. 

Not squeezing me in but filling me up to the point of no return.

The brim is close. You can’t fix me now.

I’ve romanticized the fuck out of you.

The idea of you.

The idea of being filled with such a delightful rapture.

Delicious pain.

Sickening capture.

-T