Forest

This is How I Survive A slithering sickly rattle Of cockroach chitin on stone Wet stale dungeon darkness Drips Echo I lay my golden hair back into Black gritty grime and the strands clump together, wet. Black spreads through my jeans like Ink in a glass of water. I let their bodies touch mine, Cold cockroach wings against my skin I close my eyes and feel them on my face, my lips. And I give my warmth freely, a release of breath, For I trust in my love of a tree. Clear water, white tile Ink in a glass in rewind Black swirls away And the water glows pearly With the light of the evening sun. I am still Still Falling in love takes time. Falling in love takes time. The last warm breath of the dying sun is here still As my pink lips kiss your beloved grey wood. The sunlight that lit up your new green leaves       And kissed my upturned face Is gone now. The moon stretches your arms into shadows That reach for me, silently, ...