A Story of Her

One

I kissed her because
she was beautiful
and I wanted to know
what pretty tasted like

Pretty tasted of dreams
dopamine and tears
Pretty tasted of illusions
hallucinogens and dew

That sprinkles her soft
but harrows her hard

White marble cuts a form
eyes too hold in the palm
of my pupils precariously

Fluid stone stagnant flow.

Two

We went to water.
Hell is hot pitch tar.
We are in a hot spring.
Similar, my love?

We went to church.
Hell is for homosexuals.
We are in damned love.
I pray, pray tell, if similar, love.

Sanctification, sodomite.
Divinity, dyke. Marble
morphs, horns form eyes

She is sin. Pope, pulpits
press more weight on my heart.
Stop, breath becomes air.

Three

It took Jesus three days.
It has been three months.
Bouts burst, tears tear down
my deflated heart.

The sea reminds me
of marble and hot springs
Wading in the water,
wanting to be washed

but too scared to take the plunge.
She’s drowned for all I know.
But, even after three months, I know
my body has no gills.

By Alicia Liu

Biography:

Alicia Liu is a rising sophomore at Swarthmore College. She’s currently undecided about her course of study, but she enjoys writing, reading, cooking, baking, and photography.