Poetry Writing

for Lux

You felt the wind in
your hair, even in the
last moments when
the wind was carbon dioxide,
snuffing out your cigarette
and snapping the flirtation
from your eyes.

The castles in your mind
toppled and crumbled as
their hands fondled and gripped,
first only one, then a score
of men by moonlight.
Their hands were the hands of
Gods and monsters.

Where was your mind?
Where were you dreaming of?
How did we fail you?
What land have you and
your sisters run to with
ropes on your neck and
pills in your bellies?

Now you can move through
us all, barely kissing our eyelids
with your ever laughing
lips, lusting for life,
hungry for love and journey.
Golden hair bleeds down your back
and brushes over us as we dream of you.

(Based on The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides)

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