3 July 2009

girls with flowers for eyes dance and sing
they miss their mothers and can't stand their fathers,
who drink too much and smell like piss and sorrow,
whose fists seek them out in the night;
they pound and they pound and they pound.

the flowers are wilted, oozing red and yellow,
stained awful purple
that creeps up and lays claim
to the delicate
parts,
the most beautiful,
parts
of little girls without anyone but each other.

and so because they dare not mention their
flowers,
they sing and they dance around brilliant fires at night
vowing
i'll never let you go away,
vowing
i love you and no one else
because no one else knows what it's like
to have beautiful flowers
ooze red and yellow