Goth Adult Woman Poem by James McLain

You knew of my home room weakness,
painted female hands, alone or in private.
Nails with teeth your collar drips spikes.
I dream of countless misunderstandings.
Giving all else more of the long sting.
Red open bloom as tears flood the valley of breath.
With you, I am learning how to cry this summer again.
The smell of darkness gives way
and I give you more than the bright yellow light.
Your silver spray it drains off my soul.
Completely inside where it's warm just my head hanging out.
I speak of what I must feel life comes from strong muscles.