Victoria Annette Bailey

The doorframe has your shape attached
I think you may be there,
Bloodied butterflies dance beside your step
Get tangled in your hair.
...

A unique hyacinth corrupts the field of red, red roses,
The contrast of your moonlit skin blends where the thorns cut deep,
And the forsaken lilac flower, windswept and jealous,
Stands as the Eiffel Tower, beneath the clouds. Unkempt. Asleep.
...

Katie was a malevolent tease
The start is weak to the bitter end,
Faux confidence for insecurity
Wilhelm to defend.
...

She's an Icarus in atmosphere
On flammable wings,
Escaping to the beautiful
Solitude sky brings.
...

She wants to swim with the dolphins
But she's scared of the ocean
Gripping onto hope by a thread,
Watching the mirror
...

An enigmatic voice slides
Beneath the bedroom door,
A snake in solace and spirits
Passing treason as the law.
...

You stare into the eyes of your own resentment
When uninterrupted love turns away,
Ignorance blossoms on a Wednesday afternoon
Falling for desire come Thursday.
...

Jamie’s on Wednesday,2.30am
Breakfast with Monet at six,
Used in the sunrise, abused at the Moon
Taking her punishment fix.
...

I was wasted in Montana,
On a return-ticket home,
I won't return to where I've come from,
And she's heading to Rome.
...

Throw back another few pills
Close your eyes and rest your head,
Let the drugs replace your anxious friends
That you inadvertently misled.
...

Walking home from heartache
In the non-existent rain,
Hiding underneath my hood
Killing time again.
...

Your frozen glance
Your icy stare,
Your taunting face
And charcoal hair.
...

“Daddy, why does my Mummy hang from the Moon?
You told me that I shouldn’t stare,
But she’s staring, Daddy, right through my skin
Her eyes bulge beneath her fair hair.
...

Hear the maiden’s cry, on barren land
Of losing everything,
Or the suicidal note
The cawing Raven sings.
...

She bites the bullet
That tore his skin
The roses thorns
A deadly sin.
...

The Joker behind
The concealing smile
Blindly feels his way
Wonders if it's worthwhile.
...

You were always beautiful
A hostage held in heaven,
You escaped on a passing storm
And fell at gone eleven.
...

There’s an old man singing
Out on his front porch
Strumming his guitar
Like it’s 1954.
...

Memories of heroin, blank paper and pens
Her and her smiling eyes
I painted her face of a white-washed wall
In shades of blue and old-times.
...

Begin with the shadow
Of a woman’s face entwined
With an accessory that weaves her
Through the dance the glides inside.
...