His Eyes Were Cold

But your chapter in my life is at an end,

But I promise to miss you until we meet again.

And when they ask,

I’ll say it was not love, but it could have been.

I’ll say your eyes were cold

And mine too warm.

-Tina Rose

Monday Mornings

You reminded me of a Monday morning cigarette break

That between awake and asleep

Feeling

Wishing

the day away

With my rolled-up heart

Charred around the edges

 Wishing for white sheets and plump pillows

But lusting for the blackness

That came with your presence.

Your kiss with its darkness

And your charcoal throat

The same warmth

that arrived with a raspy inhalation

of smoke through nose to chest,

My tar lungs and cigarette breath.

Burnt out amber

Of orange and black  

Sparks against pavement

The miniature fireworks

Under my fake Laboutin shoe.

You were my

Narcotic, Insomniac Addiction

Darling, Come Monday morning

I thought of you.

-Tina Rose

Porcelain Beauty

It’s always hard when someone is in love with the idea of you

Like One false move

One wrong step

And your porcelain image will shatter in front of them,

Cracks will appear

To reveal your weaknesses and your downfalls and your past mistakes

And you will no longer be this out of reach

human

beauty

porn-star.

You are real and raw and you shit and you cry

And you are so imperfect

So wayward

So backwards in your flawlessness

It’s the artificial parts of you that they blood lust after

Not the thoughts, emotions and feelings that overwhelm

you

It scares them that a pretty little thing can feel so much

And so

Of course they run away

As fast as they can

With the hope that cracks do not appear

in the next porcelain beauty.

-Tina Rose