Elisabeth Writing

I still think of you sometimes, when the moon swells in the sky, and I wonder if you might see her radiance too. Do you notice her incandescence, her luminosity? 

Or do you think only of the men who breached her secrets and left their mark to prove they discovered her?

She was her own, long before anyone walked her surface, and took from her mystery. 

She will forever be numinous, to me, to the ancients that were. 

Venus dahlia heart, that you cupped in your hands and traced with your teeth. My wings quivered in reaction, in attraction, 

amazed by your gentle distraction. 

Horns hidden by curls, 

autumn leaves unfurled, 

wings stained soot from the long fall through night and wonder, through 

desires and thunder. 

I grabbed you by the nape, bit into your black cherry bottom lip, molded my body to your snow and bones. I shook in the cold, my love warming us both, but was it ever earned?

I wonder if I would have turned to ice, or if my flames would have changed to blue fire – so cold it burned. Like you, sometimes, when those wings broke our fall but you held me above the sea, 

waves licking at my toes while you laughed with calculated glee.

I loved you. God, I loved you. Enough to weather the storms, 

even enough to chase them in my tattered hot-air-ballon that hovered on the horizon, despite the words of the Norn. 

Waiting for a sunrise that was always just a promise. Your lightning bolts bit and broke, your hail stung, your rain fell like ash and got in – choked, 

the words right out of my throat.

I loved you, dancing in mayhem, post-apocalyptic, 

we the two survivors of our own destruction and minds that were sick. 

But you gripped my hips, my arms around your neck; and even in the dust and death, 

I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else as my partner when we took our last breath. 

I loved you, Goblin King, choosing to break mirrors with my bloodied hands and scream for you to bring,

More annihilation and turmoil,

Until the sky itself was at a churning boil.

And I Titania, dragged you to my moss strewn bower, for a show of malevolent power. 

And I the Hurricane, sucked you and the oak trees under, and our world – you – me – were torn asunder. 

And I the Witch, spelled you to forget, frozen in the depths, spells and shadows with no missteps. 

“I’m sorry”

Words 

I 

Meant-

Words

You 

Never 

Sent. 

Aphrodite herself gathered my broken heart to her breast, wept oceans in the conch shells and dahlia petals, my broken effigy all that was left. “What has he done?” She whispered, bereft. 

And like the goddess herself I emerged from the sea (though never as glorious or as beautiful as She).

A woman – renewed – Gloriana, decked in Gold. Handmaiden only to the Goddess Great – servant of Love Herself, and chaos in its – in Her -hold. 

I’m no longer the woman you knew, 

and this new version of me? The one I’ve tried so hard to heal and to be?

She longer knows how to love you.