The Sun Ate Your Smile
Turn the tables around, there’s too much shadow.
Roses line the window— petals dripping monochrome ash on the carpet.
Don’t look at me like that, your boots drink lava like cyanide.
If you don’t close the curtains, the wasps will come.
I’ve changed my mind, blueberries do taste like memories.
Tell me that lie again. The one where you’re bleeding and can’t reach the moon.
It was early. The dogs wouldn’t quit yapping.
Swallow my heart, I dare you.
Taste the bitterness of the lake in your veins—
the fever is foreign but all the same.
Don’t tell me you’re sorry.
The sun ate your smile,
and she won’t give it back.
Static coats my mouth. Seeping white noise with every inhale.
I don’t remember what you said. Something about constellations swimming in cesspools.
People are like that, too. Vessels storing unwanted emotional corruption until the pressure reaches the foundation.
There’s a dragonfly on my shoulder—its armor iridescent; inescapable.
Stay away from the grass, the moon doesn’t like her.
I can’t look at steel-toed boots, either. My feet swell and all I think about is my father,
choked with desert sand, divided for his own land.
What happens when the ceiling caves in? Do we dissolve with the earth, or frame the fractured walls with our existence?
An owl screeches in the distance. Trenches appear beneath my feet— jagged, wretched crevices that carry the sweet scent of lilies. It’s too dark. I can’t see my hands. Fractured bones adorn the skyline; a scattered, inconsistent pattern.
Freud was right, sometimes there is someone else inside.
Flora Soper is a twenty-four year old poet and fiction writer, currently living in Florida. She is drawn to anything and everything, but holds a deep-rooted connection to history and mythology. Throughout her works, you’ll find various references ranging from Egyptian cultural and religious practices to the end of the Tudor era. She is a co-founder and co-editor of the online literary magazine The Fantastic Other. She has two poems published in the University of Tampa’s Neon, and aspires to move anywhere outside of Florida one day.