"Her"

I painted the sky like a Joker, and bent it out of place like a harlequin to fit her smile.
She told me I was an angel.
I said “No where near it.”
I pulled the pill bottles out of her throat and shaped them into little sculptures.
She helped me throw them at the wall unto teddy bears fell out.
She held out her wrists and asked me to take the pain away, but it won’t be like this anymore.
I just kissed her.
She smiled.
Her bruised tears shattered to her lips like glass, crass, and unrelenting.
Making her...think.
If only for a while.
About what I was doing.
She watched as grabbed the alcohol and tucked it underneath the void in her life.
I said “You don’t that anymore, Ivy.”
And she doesn’t.
I held her waist like it was the only thing that would keep me sane.
We danced.
We danced like people used to.
She asked me what was next, and I retorted “Simply be.”
Be you.
Be us.
Be everything you want to, because I know, dead isn’t where you’re at.
Take my hand, if even for this moment, if even for this night, if even for this dream you haven’t awoken from yet.
I will dry your tears with the hay bales in my chest.
I swear, I’ll make you happy again.
Even if it takes waking up.
Even if I have to do, I will make sure I fade off watching your lips glare for the sky.
Make me proud.
Show one for it.
Come on, here’s your chance, you know what’s going to happen soon, quick, right before...
I keep waking up.
Right at that same part.
I’m still waiting to see that girl smile.
Every day I wait to here her voice ring down from the grapevine.
Every day it sounds, as Robert Gomara might phrase it, like halos crashing.
Because her lips tend to part for one who’s name, sounds to familiar to not mine.
I’ve seen her fall like buildings tend to.
I’ve seen her rise, like pheonixs might have.
I’ve seen the tears that come only to Atlas’ face crash down around her.
I don’t know why I’m still here.
Waiting for her.
Like death does for us all.
Maybe I missed it.
Maybe what I was supposed to notice, maybe it leaped over my head like candle flame.
Maybe I died and haven’t noticed it yet.
But she sees right through me.
Y’all, like a ghost, she sees right through me.
As if I’m as dead as she wants to be sometimes.
And I can’t do anything about it.
Just wave my arms like I have something to sell her.
Who knows, a two step and a heart.
Possibly a diamond or three.
A universe with a bow spelling “Ivy” on the precipus of my lips.
A kiss to last a life time.
I could give her the world, if only she’d wake up too.
Hold out her hands.
And accept it like people in pain need to.
Forget the lovey dovey.
And the dream scapes.
I just want her.
Nothing less than that.
At a broken down monumental peak of beauty, her.