Aphrodite

        Something she possesses,
this strange blend of a girl
reaching for woman 

                                                                just like me.

She eats rubies for breakfast
swallows them whole
and never blushes.

                                                                Where can I find it?

She struts, her boots clunk on the pavement.
She speaks as herself as silk pours from
her seamless words. Her lips are pure fire. 

                                                                Where is it?

Her glasses shape her face like
a painting’s frame, and her legs are so long,
her breasts are so round, and the
dragon tattoo on her back is moving

sliding up and around her neck
to those ears that stick out in
just the right way, an unusual perfection,
and her eyes are

red red red. But her hair is a short black
rose, and her fingernails drip
silver, those pointed weapons, and the metal sticking
through her nose shines like a sword, a diamond. 

                                                                I need it.

A hard diamond sword with rays like the 

                                sun that pokes his head out, looks down
                                on me as my brown eyes search
                                for a lavender 
                                among a sea of violets: 
                                an elusive game 
                                that has lasted 
                                years, my life.
                                
                                I am playing against myself 
                                searching for what she possesses
                                as her sharp sword gleams above me
                                and the sun is going down
                                fast
                                and wings boom
                                in my head.
                                
                                My hands are racing around
                                grabbing at every flower in sight pulling
                                too many at once and they die and
                                the sun descends another foot laughing-
                                
                                When, oh!
                                The lavender, it grows from
                                my fingertips out of
                                my head through my
                                chest and the black rose
                                circles around me
                                and I have no more breath left
                                and now the light is gone 
                                and I hear the doomed wings
                                and coldness falls on my skin and

                                for a moment,
                                I am unsure,
                                about such
                                deep, deep darkness- 

                                who am i?

                                It lasts for just a moment
                               
                                and then the sun is up anew,
                                silent, and
                                the day is gloriously bright.
                                The flowers are gone,
                                she is gone,
                                and I can see.
                                
                                My eyes are still brown, I am
                                still me.
                                And in my left hand 
                                I hold a diamond sword



Caitlyn Somers is a senior English major at Arcadia University. Caitlyn aspires to be a college professor and desires to (eventually) publish a book of poetry. She loves watching random dance choreography videos on Youtube (and crying because she wishes she could dance without looking like a dork), exploring nature, experiencing all forms of art, inhaling ice cream, and playing with dogs. She once travelled to London, Spain, and Paris, but was completely unimpressed with the variety of cultures. She is aware that her jokes are bad. Caitlyn is obsessed with words: when she was little and she used to play soccer, she would stand in the middle of the field during an intense game, and scribble words in the air. Her parents and teammates were always confused, and told her to pay attention. She reluctantly listened. As she transitioned into adulthood, she began to embrace her fascination with words. She always tries to find the right one, and when she fails to do so, she is beyond frustrated. So it goes.

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