Let’s jump into the blue, breathe in oceans, and listen to cicadas sing
Summer hats on rubber tins, waiting for weddings or funerals to begin
You, a suckling babe, blood flows like milk, yet you grow hungrier still
Tiptoe on whiskers in the light but prance on wings at midnight’s will
Coins declined, access denied, and fake IDs at the bright neon door
You, a little lamb, rusted nails across your skin, the city’s favorite whore
I tried to save you but couldn’t, no more than their lofty ideals could
My chess piece tongue fell to the grass near the rocks where we stood
You, my first love, put stars in the sky, yet still, I found myself wanting
Something fierce and unforgiving, destructive and reckless bone-grilling
I take, and I take and relish in the aftermath of my perfect corruption
You, a quiet angel, my ship found harbor, yet you fell to my seduction
The mirrors reflect strangers, the past is a myth, and the truth unclear
A battle was waged. We ate the dirt, and the flatline sang loudly in the air
You, a haunting ghost, my requiem, rattling chains in my mind
I hope never to see you again, but the fates are known to be unkind
A hollow fox, a familiar friend, and a darkness inside those eyes
You, my porcelain doll, cracks slowly, waltzing through your despise
I beg your kindness and forgiveness. I blame it all on love’s folly
Though the city found solace beneath your skirts, I sank deep in melancholy
You, the arrogant witch, a soul like no other, command my every breath
I will worship in your temple until the cicadas herald my death
Yours in ink, S.P. Lowe