Today, Eliac went to school.
I wore a costume, a red dress with white flowers; I did up my hair
I covered my face with magic
and my smile was glimmmering;
I did not curb my wishful tongue.
I find
that the sparkle of a silver cape in the grey-clouded sun
can soothe, ever so slightly, the feel of a heart falling to pieces
since I fucked us up.
My efforts were rewarded by God.
People spoke to me, not in whispers or laughing points,
but admiration
I heard things like,
"Payton, you look a lot more like yourself today than usual"
and
"Payton, why haven't you worn something like this before?"
I welcomed the stares of the men on my waistline
and smiled through the screams that were shattering my soul
causing my teeth to chatter like I were cold.
When I spoke,
people stared for a moment
then they processed, then answered me
and I noticed a little Rose creeping onto their lips like the spread of
an open bottle
and I smiled.
The boys and girls who made fun of me in High School?
They're here
among the kind ones, intelligent ones
their lips move against my being,
I feel their harshness against my heart.
That's the reminder I was searching for:
I'm meant to walk these halls with my eyes down
How dare I cross the line so set for me
and empty their anger from my heart!
I could sense the tension, like a wire set to snap
on a tightrope, dust flying on the crowd from up above
I am not the source, however
the source is my tongue, my movements, me
because that part doesn't change.
Eliac is also charming.
When she speaks, she cheats,
worms her way into you, violates your will to resist
that is my talent, which I so rare employ
let me say, it's hard not to in moments like this
because in no time at all, my slow smiles and melting words of old poetry
won me hands to make them mine
in cards, their stares of awe bought my lunch
such is the price of calling my sweet voice
a liar without song.
Ha, ha!
....And then they left.
They left me alone in the longue
thinking about card games and charm
waiting for the pain to stop.
I need longer than that
need a purpose to draw them to me
and have none.
Eliac
is useless
without your lips to taste to magic
on my dull and battered heart.
Oh, the knowledge I could draw you from your lives
pluck your innocence like berries in the summer sun
with only my tongue and a soft-moving dress
makes me ache
makes me sore
makes me cry
but you were SPEAKING to me!
What do I do with that?
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