xoxoAppleCheeks

Inspired by Arnold Böcklin's Self Portrait with Death Playing the Fiddle It was with my first breath in my mother's arms after birth that I saw it. Saw, this skeletal creature, all toothpaste white bones but with a grey gloomy shadow constantly lingering over it. As two hollow eye sockets peered out of a skull into mine, a jaw swung open and it asked me "Are you ready?" I wailed back in terror and this gruesome face, and my parents hurried to comfort and quiet me. As I grew, I began to see the creature more, not just in the daylight hours where it always hung over my shoulder. It haunted my dreams relentlessly now, always asking

   She'd never been one for hugs, sweet nothings, or first dates. Instead, she was sharp, all edges and angles, too mathematical to understand the softness of love.    Her words: "it's illogical, a fallacy, the very idea of it adles the brain because love simply does not exist". She didn't understand another hand pressing against her own, the smell of a lover's hair, or a blush that would rise across the face of a girl who'd just gotten her first kiss.   That's not to say she did not want it. She envied partners, desired their love because jealousy was hard and honest, something she could very easily comprehend.   Every day she quietly

Cartographer Veins lacing across my wrists Onto my palms. X marks the spot Where I want you to hold my hand

Masterpiece I am artwork Yet I have no creator I have rich texture Along the bumps of my skin And sharp, bitter eyelashes, Coming from a beautiful mistake. Long streaks of color Fall across my hair, A sunset, Painted on dead follicles. There are flecks of gold Floating within my eyes, Illuminating a fear of today And a hope for tomorrow. Inside, there is shriveled pinkness, Hiding secrets within its grooves, Abstract splatters of idea. Open to interpretation. A pounding beat within my chest. My drummer boy of days past, Each tick witnessing Every second of my life. Navy blue circulates under my skin, Through my