Cockchafer

about a young girl being confused and a man beguiling her

If it’s full moon I can’t cry,

questions freeze in my mind,

fingers stretch through glove holes.

I promise myself to mend them

but memory drawers are locked.

 

Maybe you told too many stories,

(I still believed in blue fairies)

night butterflies armies

overwhelmed the white lilac

bending towards us,

we were sipping a lime tea

(so bitter and sour)

from the same glass,

sands squeaked under our steps

like crystal sugar.

 

When the moon waned

I sent you a teardrop 

wearing a cockchafer plate.

It popped on the shoe point

and you crushed it.                

 

Reviews

[Marie]

Too many times we give our hearts...and have them stepped on...

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

This is exactly what I wanted to express, thank you so much.