Safe as it’s Pretty

Hours alone in the dark with the light out the window beckoning

Hiding under covers convulsing red pen onto three year old envelopes with the stamp peeling off and the spit wasn’t sticky enough

My back is aching and breaking and looping around so I can look out the window when I’m facing a doorway to nowhere

A wonderland novelty that tastes like rain and smells like wood and burns like coal

Slowly, effervescently, changing but staying as it is and emitting a subtle scent that scares me

Sitting under stars on a dock and watching the beautiful drunk people nearly die in laughter

Watching a random boy turn and smile at me and cause me to burst

Infusing my nothing with his pretend something

I never even knew when he came

He had a bottle of whine and said it was grape juice

But christ’s blood isn’t purple like pigs can’t fly

I feel empty and lifeless

As if there’s nothing in me, and I’m afraid to look down

Perhaps there’s a hole

And my pieces are disappearing into another place where the darkness stays outside

And pitch black is safe as it’s pretty