Orchid Perfume

Normal boys kiss their girlfriends goodnight.

Pisces was real in my arms, no dissonance in my head.

Kissing as if it were easy and intuitive, as I always knew its pleasures.

 

Clove cigarette smoke in my shirt, her orchid perfume in my hair.

Rebel and princess, like in her favorite movie.

Hollywood and its maudlin promises came through to burn us to the ground.

 

Pisces holds me close, one last time, in the graveyard afterwards.

Afterwords taking back what had been given.

It didn’t mean to her what it meant to me.

Kisses burn up like her clove cigarettes, sweet taste from poison and ash.

 

Athena made her town a place for a mermaid girl to swim to.

Pisces is in my blood, like orchid perfume and that goddamn movie.

The sun was hot on our bodies, even in February.

One room before the owl took me up. One kiss to snatch away hope.

 

God thinks this shit is funny.

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