A Dream. A Dream.
Not like when rain says
let everything that breaths
drown. More like drowning
in blush colored water. The
color like cheeks of the girl
with the ripped dress. Not
like the color of Margaret’s
perfume. Not a sweet smelling
fragrance. But water like leather
belts striking skin. Highlighting
the way broken fabric hangs
away from the body. Exposing
rushing waters beneath veins.
Water running through fingers
leaving a pink hue where the body
responded most. Like you
tried scrubbing bloodied fabric
and mostly failed. Pink skin
flushed with death. Alive
like you ripple in heartbeats
and limbs and breaths. Like you
breathe on a mirror. No sharp
edges only moist fingertips
wiping away at skin until it
looks different. Like you
embrace me in
rosewater. Let
me be. And you. And you.
Affection
Cover me slowly
in skin and
bring me to my knees.
You say
I have a sweet
taste – licking sugar from
my bones. Inject me with
your blood and tell me how
well we blend. Let me take
your warmth to
ward off
the nightmares.
Dreaming of
blackbirds resting
their wings against
tree branches until
I find them lying
still – wondering
if they’re sleeping or freshly
dead. Only when I’m
mostly whole
am I the object
of your affection. I feel you
chopping away at my
ribs. Taking a blade to my
skin – splitting me in
two – only to realize
it was merely your
fingernails. This
is not a dream.
Ashley Mares’ poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Absinthe Poetry Review, Whale Road Review, Rogue Agent, Hermeneutic Chaos, Whiskey Island, White Stag, and others. She is currently completing her J.D. in Monterey, Ca, where she lives with her husband. Read more of her poetry at ashleymarespoetry.wordpress.com and follow her @ash_mares2.