The shipwreck looked like her
Drowning in her tears
Surrounded by the sparkle of moonlight
And stars and aeroplanes
Half under and half afloat
She sits
The mast of her life keeping her heart dry
And her soul in little boxes
Adrift on his sea
Those rapid and angry waves
In that cruel ocean


Poor roses

You have roses in your garden
But they are lies
How can something so beautiful belong to someone so ugly
Your false rose bed is where I must’ve lived
Under the dirt
Under your love
With the worms and the damp and roots
Your false roses grow up full and bright
But I know they know who they belong to
Because so did I
I knew. And so do they.
They never say anything though
They’re not clever enough
They’re too mild so they endure under your falsehood and they will until they die
I suppose I did say something
Otherwise I don’t suppose I’d be here now
It would be another version entirely
The one you tried to create
Perhaps unwittingly
I don’t know anymore
But I’ll always think of those poor roses
Growing for you
Being bright and brilliant for you
You never deserved any of it