the sun drops into the well

a shiny penny of a wish,

as a delicate red

draws a halo around

the mountains. i wish

to flip away the coins

on my eyes, revitalized

and resurrected, the styx

no longer washes over me

when i think of you.

candy sweet, my lips

yearn not, miss not,

the taste of tears.

i am no liar. i never was.

the fits of my shoulders

trembling like the collapse

of a roman colosseum

are more than enough

of a reminder to wash

the stars from my eyes

with thundering waves

of this saccharine release.

fingers trace the thick

knots of my stretch marks,

like the touch of 

an ancient oak, towering

high above the canopy.

tenderly pink, growth,

i find no shame in their

stripes of glittering flesh.