#jo violet

[dead-wanderers-society]

Sunset

I stare at my hands,

the ones covered in blood.

They are cold,

so cold.

Then I turn my gaze upwards.

I catch glimpse of the sunset.

I sigh,

this is your favorite time of day.

With all the vibrant colors,

so warm and bright.

I long for the warmth of your arms.

The ones as warm as,

the sunset.

~~~

//An original poem by Jo Violet

[jo-the-flower-girl]

Swings

I remember you through swinging.

The gentle movement, 

up,

then down,

then up again. 

The black plastic,

attached to the intertwining chain links,

that seem to go on forever. 

I close my eyes,

and feel the butterflies,

almost like ones that come when you touch me,

or when I hear your voice. 

With the wind in my hair,

I think about how easy it would be,

to just fly away. 

~~~

//An Original Poem By Jo Violet

[jo-the-flower-girl]

Real Love

“So what’s this about a boy?”

His hands were cold.

“I don’t want to hear it again.”

“Warm them,” he muttered.

“You are fucking up your life.” 

He slipped them under my shirt.

“I had no one.”

I busied myself with his lips.

“Pull yourself together.”

He was so nice, just to touch.

“It’s not real love.”

“I love you,” he whispered. 

~~~

// An original poem by Jo Violet