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A little boy named Ethan
Sits on a bleeding tree,
Inhaling his sheets in the sun.
He grew up to quickly.
I met him at seventeen,
Yet his mind was too old.
We smashed fluorescent neon lights,
Hoping that liquid glass and glow
Would spill on our hands and heads.
It dripped down his face,
Then caught on his eyelashes
In radioactive pulsing beads.
Two years later,
Ethan lusted to see scattered, chipped,
Peeling paint ribs drowning in
His little sadistic whispers
Made my skin crawl.
He said my blood could stain the desert,
And that would make it beautiful.
He’s an irreplaceable soul.
Ethan has a neck like a fragile flower stem.
I’m misled by the deadly scent of his
Ethan says he likes when I bruise.
Sometimes he gives them to me on purpose,
Just like decoration and jewelry.
Ethan licks away my tears when I cry.
I bite my lips the entire time.
Then Ethan bites them for me.
Ethan makes me dance in the rain in stilettos.
His wet hair has an opiate effect.
Four years later,
Ethan loves my scars more
Than my bruises.
And I love Ethan enough to
Sacrifice my skin.
| This is such a powerful poem. The last two lines of every stanza really drives the point home. I agree with Kube though. This seems like a relationship which could be very mentally and physically abusive. Or its a healthy relationship that has gone through a lot and these scars and brusises are more of metaphorical thing than an actual thing. ||| Posted on 2007-03-20 00:00:00 | by silentpoison | [ Reply to This ] || For some reason this gives me the impression of an abussive relationship with love so strong that you don't care, but thats just me.|
|| Posted on 2007-03-20 00:00:00 | by Kube | [ Reply to This ] |