Thursday, August 12, 2010

If Venus Hated the Sun

It's like I'm your satalight and I
rotate around you like I can't be without you now
it's all a blur without you now
I'm collecting thoughts in my pocketbook
saving rocks that were the ones we took
when we played before
you've got me like a fool
trading roses for caricatures
and making murals out of my tears
and painting them in glitter and gold
and it was all sunshine before
but the light is getting old
So I chaffe and I pull
stuck on an axis I can't leave
It's between your gravity and your beauty
and I'm mesmerized to remain
You've got me leading lines into songs for you
and proclaiming the love that is never true
and it's all a blur here in this empty space
I begin to kick and fight at you
make you hurt the way I wanted to
and still the night with your screams
for me to shut up
you're pincushions for me to poke
the needles were the words I spoke
but I don't know what I'd do without you
I'm all around you
I am itching at my bindings and trading insults
and laughing at the way I load these catapolts
just to throw the stones at you
and watch the way my words hurt you
You've got me naming my scars in Greek
and singing the hymns of funeral rights
I am leaving the messes in a collage on the floor
and taking hammers to the tiles
breaking the sight
Until I want to see again your light
It's like I'm your satalight and I
rotate around you like I can't be without you now
and I want away from you now
So I fling the hurt at you
and hope the weight of guilt kills you
and I fight and pull and tug and break and bend
you became pincushions that I always poke
bleeding from the cruelties I spoke
loaded catapolts to tear down your walls
making the insults rip from you pleading calls
and hammer the surface of tile work depicting our life
your roses are dead, dear
and the rocks are in the ground
but I still can't break away
held bound
rotating around you like I cannot
get
away
if venus hated the sun, it would feel this way
Mesmerized by you I have to stay
making murals out of tears in glitters and gold
it's the mockery of a metaphor of your worth

By Elizabeth Azpurua

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