by Aria Kellman,
Dusted gold path
Streets of painted glass
Are lined
With crimson
Rose
Petals paint the sky
With colours of perfection
And only
The devil’s perfume blows
Pale petals present perfection
Only
When broken from the stem
El demonio grows,
Tender hands
Bleeding black
And the thorn
Still sticks with his sting
Cry out
Do not
Not until told you are hurt.
Smile
Because It smarts not.
Enjoy it always.
Y gracias al diablo
Por el dolor
Glass
Shards
Choked down
As if sparkling diamond
Make a broken child’s candy.
Sweet, scathing
Scraping through the throat
Llora
Debajo de sus sábanas
It matters
Not.
If they are silk,
Mind not the bed you lay upon
Hides prickling pins.
Gracias al Diablo.
For
The pain
Enjoy the rose’s fragrance,
Llena sus pulmones
Con el aliento del diablo
Beautiful bite
Bless my path
With complaints
Only the platinum plated tongue can utter
Sweet, stinging
Pungent, perfect
Perfume
Gracias a Dios
For the chance
To feel pain.
