The sun is a cruel beauty; a scorned lover exposing the macabre patterns
of my past. I cover them in vines and needles, but the scars still burn beneath
an empyrean sky. I waste the burden of daylight in the darkest corner booth I can find,
finishing off the last of my smokes and hiding in the cloud.
My knock around heart rises and sets with the moon, her living beams
passing through the slate grey reflections of a dingy, one way mirror.
From my side of the glass, I taste the rain, but all it does
is make a cheap shot of whisky a little bit cheaper.
Women like me have nothing to lose but our own concept of an actual soul.
Always on the run, just trying to survive as we wind up in a seedy back alley
somewhere, getting our knees dirty for a twenty dollar bill.
Life has been one lost battle after another, my kindness
used against me like a double edged dagger while all things good
slipped quietly through my bloodied hands. I held on tightly
to the most important one; the only one that mattered.
I keep it in a safe place.
I know you'll take good care of it.
(artwork by Marta Astfalck-Vietz)