lilac

1940s paperdoll



1940s paper doll wavering in the wind chimes
she wears a pencil skirt, its the forest
its the blood within her
the rain smells to her

a century old at least it dots her eyelids paints them with memories
softens her pastel makeup the contour of her facial indentations
and chisels away at her cheer and charm

she was alive this day last year
feeling the same lost and confused
she was alive this day ten years ago
but maybe then she was at home

only 10 then she would have been in her room
thinking of brother washing his hair
lukewarm bathwater with cheap soap
silly toothy smiles that never ceased to charge her
to ignite the love inside her a kind of sisterly protector she
was then a warrior and decayed such since

now she eats at her strings of hair and wonders why the taste is so familiar
how the tv will be showing the same channels for the next wave of martians brain dead and silent unable to speak in a room of fellow zombies
you have to rely upon them to survive, but not let them ruin you with their guises
they will bruise your ego with words they acquire through revenge

i am only as alive as you there is no stronger flesh