The Saint Killed Her

 

 

 

 

The clouds closed in

across the eyes.

Shrouding the sun.

that sun.

something integral

hardened.

He had the sweet smile of a child.

And with eyes like knives

he slid his thumb across his throat

and shot his imaginary gun at a man.

And he laughed and smiled.

But his eyes were knives.

And his smile was a child.

 

He warned her in a hushed voice;

I might hurt you

her eyes grew wide and swallowed his

she gave him her skin

to hide sin

she gave up her hips for his violence

she gave her mouth

she offered her tissue skin

smiled softly, waiting for his sharp teeth

his sharp knife

the sun tried to melt her

the sun tried it's best

but nothing could touch her

as her heart beat furiously in her breast

the rain had tried to break her

and even eyes had had their go

but her blood was fierce and happy

though nobody should know

the shadow moved over him

and he became the shade

and with his eyes

and with his breath

he cast darkness onto her

she was already a shadow

and so became a black cut-out

and the room became emptiness

and their love an abandoned shell

none of us hold light in our eyes this fine morning

we all keep the darkest dark

waiting for the night again

so I cant see you

and you cant see me

we bled quietly

together this morning

our hearts bled

our lungs bled

and our fingernails did some bleeding

for our future.

You sighed, and my eyes chased your eyes.

But we didn't solve anything.

I suppose we didn't really try.

“he's from Romania,

he walks with a walking stick,

but his walking stick has gone on strike”

(blinking at the morning. Blinking wide eyed like a baby,

this man is a drunk

always in the mornings.

His face is round like a baby.

He wears a beanie,

he's always going somewhere drunk)

you can put that knife

in my chest

I can keep you, in my eyes

my empty palm keeps ghosts

my face closed shut

stitched together with hate and love

you have everything of mine

I have the promise ghosts

let's keep dancing

I have a little bit left

that you can take

you can use for yourself.

Wake up breaking

and tip toe through the day

I hold the ghosts in my arms

embrace them tenderly

I keep my eyes on you.

Eye you tenderly too.

The sand is compact

and the waves wash over

cold and crystal

stopping but moving

while everything is still

everything else moves

as they crossed through the crossroads

her mind stopped alone

her eyes focussed

keeps her face in shadows

and she keeps the stones company.

She keeps stones for company

she keeps shadows in her.

At the end of summer

when the light is blinding

when the warmth is stifling

she was stirring then

her eyes swept away

in two salt rivers

trouble with four walls

and obscured glass

inability to see the sky

out in the cold

out there in the dark

linger darker memories

memories made of anger

memories hard as stone

stones thrown at each other

stones from some place other

other than my own

 

 

 

 

Katia da Silva

 

 

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