Blues

Thorns suck my copper tears,
that seep in my veins,
An angel sings icicles
as they melt in my grave.

Paper cuts and blades
find my hidden wounds,
Judas tries to empty me,
But God is my spoon.

I sleep with terror
and wake with the rain,
Trees dance with me
and the night becomes day.

Dear mother,
I love you,
You are my sun
and I am your moon,