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Zoe Guillory

I Love You

But somehow, the sunlight hurt.
It hurt until my face was covered
with liquid happiness and tears.
And I looked across the river
and saw us.
And saw you kill me and take
your own life.
And I screamed.
Louder than my vocal chords can handle.
Like a freight train.
You were gone when you hadn't lived.
I was gone when I hadn't told you
all that I needed to say.
All that you needed to hear.

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Cursed

And yet you are alone.
You cry to the Heavens
your song of lost Hope
and Sorrows.
Your song of lies.
The sweet words
that you only hope
I will hear.
But I do not listen.
And you see it
in my eyes.
The glitter of Indifference.
And you try to steal
it and tuck it
into your sock.
But it will not work for you.
I will not work for you.
It is not inside you
and you will always
have the curse

[...] Read more

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Untouchable Paradise

Rolling hills bathed in a sea
of azure skies laid before me.
A golden sun offered me its rays,
and I soaked them in gladly,
wondering if it was real.
Was there a place, just beyond
my knowledge, that was as
perfect as this
landscape before me?
My questions went
unanswered, but when I
took a step towards
my peaceful paradise,
my imagination failed me,
and I was left alone.
In my bedroom.
With a warm memory.

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My Bluejay

She lay at my feet.
Dead.
Her wings snapped and matted
with blood.
Her neck at an angle to only display
Death.
Eyes burned out by the words
of Time.
And another day goes by.
I think about her at times
when the Hatred of Man has
overcome me. And I look down
at my feet.
And she is still there.
A few feathers are now missing.
Her feet are shriveled
and her blood has leaked out.
But she exists still as a memory.

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If I Had a Paintbrush

If I had a paintbrush, I'd paint my world orange.
Orange for the Destruction and Purity of Fire;
For the Power of the Sun;
For the Patience and Innocence of a Child;
For the careful Balance between the Material and Spiritual;
For the Happiness and Goodness in the World;
For Light and the Truth.
Orange for Life.
And among all the millions of shades of orange,
I would paint a splash of light green.
Green for Hope.

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The Serpent

He slithers menacingly across the floor,
hissing through his teeth.
Your skin crawls as quickly as he glides,
making your heart skip around.
His eyes rest upon you.
A voice in your head: WILL HE STRIKE?
You assume that the answer is yes,
but he turns his disproportional head
away from you, letting you rest
for only a moment. NOT RIGHT NOW,
the adder seemed to mutter,
though you know-you hope-
that it was your imagination.
BUT, I WILL BE BACK.

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The Vision

He sees his future
In the eyes of the girl.
The deep brown eyes
That smile at him.

He dreams of the day
When those eyes
Will look only at him,
And she will be his.

He watches her laugh.
He only wishes that
She would laugh with him,
Only see him.

He is the kind of guy
That only dreams,
Does not approach her,
But wishes that he could

[...] Read more

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Stolen Lives

The actors had no identity of their own.
They danced around, singing out
their stories. Their stories that were not
theirs. The colorful masks sparkled
under the stage lights. Almost blinding.
I held my breath. A man stood before me,
his beak almost puncturing my nose.
He gripped my arm and pulled me on stage.
The masked creatures backed out of the light
to give me room. I was frozen. Sweat
dripped down my skin. Pressure sunk
into my face. My Jell-O hands inched
towards it. A tear rolled down my cheek.
I, too, had a mask.

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Wasted Away

A man sits alone at the bar.
His hat pulled over his eyes.
His hands frozen from the summer air.
His throat burning-but he still drinks.
And all his sorrows are swallowed.
Glass by glass
of amber bitterness.
Flashbacks are melted to a blur
of smoke and fear.
A car crash.
Where one survivor walked away
from the battlefield of machines.
Where one survivor walked away
from the shriveled body of one
that Death stole from him.
And so he sat.
His hat low. The shadow
covering the painful history in his eyes
as the glasses of morphine
lulled him to sleep.

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And I Waited

And I was still alone, under our tree.
Yet another Evangeline.
My tears having dried like spiderwebs
across my sunburnt cheeks.
Cheeks sore from laughter.
And I waited.
I waited where we always met,
day after day.
But then the sun hid behind a fleet of clouds
and crystal insects pelted the leaves
in a torrent of cold tears from the sky.
The fallen leaves lay on the ground before me.
But I stayed.
And my hair clung to my neck
and my cheeks burned like Hell
and I waited.
When the clouds parted, our tree was bare.
It shivered in the breeze,
dancing with me to the Waltz of Loss.
And I waited.

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