A spark
they still call hatred,
but the scent of sweetness
hides underneath,
the perfect match of wit
and struggle.
He shoves.
She slaps.
He welcomes pain.
It feels like love.
Stinking, crazy,
hurtful love.
Episode 80 – Real Me
dawn is morning’s response
to evening’s darkness
* * *
I am an only child,
little sister I have not.
But the kid
appeared one day,
writing journals,
making a nuisance,
altering my life.
What is a life
if not what’s remembered?
Or is what’s remembered
the whole of a life?
Can missing pieces
form a sister,
like God in those first days
molding a planet from the void?
Can a sister form
from shared memories –
skinned knees,
birthday cakes,
the forbidden borrowing
of a favorite sweater?
If memories fail,
does the sister evaporate
like water on a summer sidewalk?
Or do lies fracture,
leaving a prism
of colorful stories behind?
Episode 79 – Buffy vs. Dracula
Lying close,
he doesn’t satisfy.
Pursuit
feeds her hunger.
She chases thrills,
then returns spent
to lie beside him.
A kindred
flows like mist
into her room
while she is sleeping,
drinking her in.
Her true nature
is concealed
beneath crepe paper
and ribbons,
peeled back layers
of strength
and darkness.
His nature is
a colorful calligraphy,
flowing shallow
and powerful
beneath the skin.
He offers eternity.
She is rooted in now,
her thirst quenched
by ancient memories.
She, as predator.
She, as seduction.
She, as hunger.
He leaves her
as he found her,
wanting more.