A Journal of the Arts
You’re not like the others.
Soft, sweet, milk, honey be my lover.
Meeting you in the hot July New York summer.
Soft, sweet, be my baby. There is no maybe that I’m yours.
I know that you can have your pick but won’t you please pick me.
Cinnamon, honey, lilac dreams.
I wait for you in the evening dressed down in my finest silk gown.
I wait and wait for you to come around and when you finally do I see, you were crafted just for
me. I’m not like the others and that’s something you can see, because you’re not like the others
which is why you love me.
Eat Your Heart Out
Some nights my heart just feels way
too heavy for my body.
I wish I could crawl inside myself and see what’s going on.
I wish I could rip my soft heart out of this blue body
Serve up my pain on a silver platter.
Pull out my fangs and sink right in.