Aphrodite’s Disaster

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She burned the box devoted to him,

And scattered the ashes in his car.

Hiss —

Irises flared in heated rage,

As she hugged her knees in the backseat.

~

He broke the window to her bedroom,

And stumbled through on drunken legs.

Thud —

Trembling knees cracked on wooden boards,

As he dropped his head to the mattress.

~

She found their picture in the glovebox,

And clutched the print with bloodless knuckles.

Rip —

Smirk and smile mocked falling tears,

When she tore their faces to pieces.

~

He saw the frame upon the nightstand,

And seized it with a strangled laugh.

— Crash —

Glass shattered, denting white plaster,

When he threw their love across the room.

~

Splintered,

Tattered,

Disfigured,

Destroyed,

She clawed his skin as he crushed her heart,

And Aphrodite sobbed from her throne,

As her masterpiece fell to Hades.

– kh.

March 2017 | Placer County, California

Down

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To her, the ground went up.

To her, the sky fell down.

To her, the walls waltzed with the staircase,

The carpet barked at her toes,

And the sofa gave her a smile.

She saw stars on the ceiling,

Clouds in the television,

A snowy mountain on the nightstand.

The world spun circles around her.

It was left.

Inside-out.

Upside-down.

But when the world went right,

She saw the time run out on her life.

– kh.

© September 2016| Placer County, California


I finished…

SEVEN DEADLY SINS POETRY SERIES:

Envy | Gluttony | Greed | Lust | Pride | Sloth | Wrath

XXIII. 2 Poor Kids

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He picks her up in a Benz,

But my lover comes by himself and a dozen roses.

He probably stole them.

He’s got a smudge of mud on his eye

Here to make me break into a smile,

‘Cause he drives them mad.

Dollar signs all around us,

We sneak onto the city bus.

Too blinded by what we have

To notice your mean old laughs.

And we’re just two poor kids from a really rich city,

What a pity.

‘Cause we’ve got a love story unlike the rest,

No fancy suit and no fancy dress,

 Just us.

– “2 Poor Kids” by Ruth B.

XXI. Another Day

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I think I was about ten years old

Watching the news with my dad.

I didn’t see nothing but tears and blood

And a bunch of people looking so mad.

“That’s war,” I was told.

I said, “How? That ain’t nothing like the games I have.”

I couldn’t grasp the sense of an innocent child

Dying by the hands of a grown man.

And while some kids raised on cartoons,

Young girls making money in dark rooms.

We all deserve a decent meal.

Why his belly so soft? Why she holding that hard spoon?

And where is my head of state?

If crime pays, talk peace, still engaging in heavy arms trade.

In the jungle that we call Sin City,

While life rules, survival of the fittest.

– “Another Day” by Nico & Vinz

XX. Feelings

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She wrote down her feelings in a journal.

No descriptions.

Just the words.

She wrote down a name next to each feeling.

No explanations.

Just the names.

She stared at the paper for a while.

No tears.

Just silence.

Then she burned it.

– kh.

© Placer County, California | April 2016