Ghosts
The only ghosts I've seen
Were not specters haunting homes
Nor flits of light in the corner of
an eye.
Nor sounds with no apparent source.
The only ghosts I've known
Are memories found in photos
And the thoughts dredged up by tokens
of past love.
And the way a certain song brings to mind
everyone that I have lost in life.
My Fault
"It's not my fault," I whisper
when past wrongs are brought
to light in front of my eyes.
Explanations pass my lips
Or false admissions do the same
But truly inside I feel so hurt
So betrayed.
I did that wrong,
Or I said that wrong
But why should I say I did it
when reasons float about
that easily can be pointed to
for my sins.
And when I do voice it
when I say I did this thing
Or yes I am this way
I dread what others will
inevitably say.
Blue Haired Girl in New Orleans
Fairy girl with the blue hair
sitting in front of
an abandoned lot
with suitcase open
and trinkets inside.
How faded you are now
in my mind
and memory
after so long of not
thinking about you.
I wrote a poem
about you once,
but where is it now?
And there was a word
painted on the lid
of your suitcase.
What was that word?
You are a person
with a life and dreams
and hopes and fears
and are you still alive,
or have you passed?
Yet, I took you
out of life and
put you into words
and lost those words
and lost you,
except for this
scuffed chalk drawing
of words
that represent the idea
of an idea
you never were.
It’s All Comparative
Though side by side
to the relationships of others
my sins may not seem great
and yet they may seem far worse.
And to the same
my gratitude may well
fall along the same lines
as my sins.
The use of the coming words
may seem generic and cliche
compared to the myraid
examples of greater poets.
But I don't know
a better way to express
the truth of my love
than with simple words.
To those who will
probably never read this
and those I know
never will
I am truly sorry and deeply thank you
and I wish I could
be and feel more of both.
Death and Desire
The moon passed through the tree tops and illuminated the small area where Cross and Katrina stood. Cross looked over at the half demon. Her skin was blue now, because of the moonlight, and her golden colored eyes reflected the dim light giving them a glowing effect. In other light, sun or flame, she had olive colored skin and green eyes.
She wore a tight bodice with the strings dangling in the front, but no sleeves so she could still move her arms easily. Small strips of silk hung around her waist allowing movement, but also allowing her long, toned legs to be seen. She knew the effect she had on men, and women, and used it to her advantage every chance she got.
Cross wore a simple black tunic and breeches, both loose enough to manuever in, but tight enough not to get tangled. His red hair was pulled back into a short tail.
“Are we going to do this or what?” he asked.
Katrina gave him a half smile and slid up beside him, taking one of his arms in her hand. The other felt along his chest and downward. Cross tried to step away, tried not to let her see how he responded to her touch, but she gripped his arm tighter and pulled him close.
“Oh, we are,” she purred. “Don’t be so impatient. It’s the anticipation that matters most.”
Cross wrenched his arm away, Kat’s fingernails left bloody marks on his skin. “Let’s get this done. Go into the settlement, kill Collin, and leave.”
Katrinia pouted. “You are so innocent aren’t you? We’ll kill Collin, of course,” she reached a hand up to stroke his cheek. “But we aren’t going to leave til I have a little fun, too.”
Cross gritted his teeth as she touched him. “How many?”
Katrina smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. “How many are there?”
“You’re sick.”
“Maybe, but I know what I want.” She reached for his groin, but he grabbed her wrist and held tight. She laughed, reached a hand behind his neck, and pulled his head foreward. She forced his lips open and her tongue darted in and out of his mouth. He hated his body, but he found himself returning the kiss.
She revolted him. Made him sick to his stomach, but when she touched him, he wanted her. He hated her for that.
She stepped away, licked her lips, and tilted her head to the side. “Ready to go?”
Without a word, Cross pushed passed her and walked toward the small settlement, just beyond the trees.
* * *
Cross watched as the make-shift huts burned bright with flame. He didn’t want to see, but someone had to be a witness to this horror. His eyes glanced to the right.
A few yards away, Kat, her skin olive toned in the light of the burning houses, sat naked and covered in blood atop a dying man’s body. Her dagger plunged deep into his chest.
The man’s body convulsed as he tried and failed to breath. The half demon gave him a hungry look and as life drained from him, she bent down and gave him a deep long kiss.
Cross turned away and closed his eyes.
A few minutes later, he heard a soft scrapping behind him. He knew she was there, still hungry, waiting for him to turn around. She pressed her breast against his back, wrapping her bloody arms around his stomach, staining his shirt.
“Do I disgust you?” she whispered in his ear. He felt a surge of desire course down his body. Damn her and damn himself.
“Yes.” He turned around in her arms. “Always.” She pulled him close and pressed her blood soaked lips against his. The taste of copper filled his mouth. Still, he craved her. His own arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her tighter.
The last thing he remembered before being consumed with her body, was the creaking and breaking of one of the buring huts as it fell in on itself.