I am like the earth,
a molten core burns inside of me,
hidden
by day old cosmetics.
When I looked into the mirror
I saw a siren guiding me,
her eyes reflected a world to be.
***
Dusty pinks that fade to grey,
scabs and scars like moon craters
across the earth —
my face.
Benzoyl peroxide dripping down
to bleach my arid flesh.
Forcing a flood
That erupts in steam
from inside my vocal chords.
Pocketing your name
in the cliffs
like treasures buried in the sand.
Where when the sea drifts
it unleashes them,
foaming with the milky head of a beer.
This is where I drink
my longing into sanity.
In the barren cliffs
is where the siren leads me.
Parched I become, from the stale martini,
the tides funneling out
as if to follow the moon.
Scampering across the sand dunes.
The strata forming layers
of my days gone by,
exposed in the great canyons,
forever I lie —
Peeled of my flora and fauna.
My soul etched in the layers
of sediment
that shield my burning core.
***
Brush away the bones
and the fossils
in the dirt
and press me in-between
the pages
of the scrapbook.
Suspended in the shallows
where the light can still reach,
is where the sirens cradle me.