Grey Apartment

May I fill up this place with candles and open the window leading to a starry sky? Searing knives of kisses, levitation. Peeling baroque wall paper, decaying Victorian furniture. The candles are blowing down down in the starlight wind and she’s levitating levitating blood down her legs (because she can breathe), as the moon shadows spilled on dusty paper dolls, their voices rising. She bleeds, ripping lace ripping her bone lacing her bones with tremors. She wrote postcards to Italy with a broken fountain pen to an address she made up to a woman with sad eyes and a seething heart. Open the shutters she said to her as she pictured her and her caged doves in her grey apartment overlooking an alley in Napoli. In her little book she scribbled love poems to a faerie she once kissed in her dreams. Remembering that fleeting moment when the night sky was caught in her chest and she could not breathe only cry and laugh at the paper woman in the moon. Mother Time playing tricks on her children of all realms. Faerie lover I shall bring you home to my grey cavern where I cannot afford to light my lamps and it will rain when you arrive and we will watch it from my cavern. And suddenly I sink in aqua eyes two stars withholding shimmering oceans. And then you hold my hands stained in ink and I wasn’t sure why but the sound of bells melted on my breast. The accordion man with sorrow in his heart from a distant alleyway sent us a well wish as your sea foam wings dissolved into me and coolness breathed down from Mother Moon, blowing her blessing kisses. Around, around my faerie friend, your hand clasped in mine. It seems we are dreaming my Queen as the music box trots on my armoire without our bidding and sunshine blows inside the grayness. I have the taste of your wings my lips and my chest is a violent screech. Dried blood on my legs my body is untouched and stinging. I am so sick I cannot even pick up my pen to write to you my sky-lover, and I don’t even know your name.