Maybe Her Own Tears Were The Poison

Witch Baby Wanted To Ask Ping How To Find Her Jah-love Angel. She Knew Raphael Was Not Him, Even Though Raphael Had The Right Eyes And Smile And Name. She Knew How He Looked--the Angel In Her Dream--but She Didn't Know How To Find Him. Should She Roller-skate Through The Streets In The Evenings When The Streetlights Flicker On? Should She Stow Away To Jamaica On A Cruise Ship And Search For Him In The Rain Forests And Along The Beaches? Would He Come To Her? Was He Waiting, Dreaming Of Her In The Same Way She Waited And Dreamed?

This Was Not A Fearie Tale. This Was Not The Movies. This Was Life. It Hurt More. It Was Excruciating. It Was Excruciatingly Beautiful.

Maybe He Was Real. Maybe I'd Made Him Up. Either Way, He Didn't Think I Needed Him Anymore. Maybe He Was Right.

Love Is The Worst Earthquake There Is. Can Crush You To The Thickness Of Your Bones. Love Can Be Like Cancer Sometimes. Terminal. It Can Make You Vomit. It Can Make You Want To Cut It Out. It Can Take You Over Against Your Will.

I Dreamed You Were Standing In This Dark Place And You Touched These Dead Flowers And They Lit Up Like They Were Electric Or Something. Electric Lilies. Lighting Up The Valley.