There’s nothing sweeter or more satisfying than weaving together words and turns of phrases for the person who sets your soul on fire.
we do this mad dance
around each other
round and round and round
again, ‘til we’re both
seeing stars, and are
as far apart as
there my soul lies, caught
between lines of faded ink
and time-warped pages
Let’s seize the skies with your amber eyes and tattoo the horizon with bullet holes and riddled mines. Let’s stain the virgin clouds crimson with ribbons of our flesh and minds—yours and mine, intertwined.
there is nothing more
to do when you’ve truly lost
all that had mattered
I dreamt of fiery fingers licking triggers,
blood spewing from flesh and bone
and tinging the heavens crimson
till the skies congested into tarry black
and wept rivers of rust and white roses
dyed red in swirling rivulets,
a mere ghost of you.
Sword-brandishing tales of swashbucklery and sadly realistic melancholy ditties make up my DNA. There are secrets, some new or old and ripe for the picking, hidden in every laugh and frown line on my face. There are memories tucked into every pore, just waiting to be let out if pressed just so, and new ones to be made, concealed behind every strand of hair on my head, like kindling just begging to be inflamed.