I bit in to it.
Explode,
Gunpowder in a cherry stone.
The flavours fit together like a jigsaw, then drifted apart like countries on an ocean;
Heat from old coals on a young tongue that hadn't tasted the world.
Fluid concertina accordion flavour -too many colours spoil the canvas.
It's a short sentence but I've never said it.
Let something like that drop and it goes on long after it stops.
The ripples spread beyond their little puddle confines
The echoes ricochet through the fullest of minds
The gravity of the sentiment is enough to tug the moon from the sky.
Or cause the vessels of hope I've come to know as my eyes to change.
Fill up.
Martini glasses left out in the rain.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 6:14 PM UTC
I asked the tired clichés, to do away
With everything I feel for you.
They yawned they didn't have the strength, nor the murderous intent
To see a task like that one through.
I asked the eggs in the trees
To fall and join me on the ground.
On hearing my scream, their Mother
Flew on down
And she sang to me
So delicately
Of how a yolk in a shell in a bed
Is like a brain in a skull in a head
Insofar as it's exactly where it needs to be
Yet oh so, oh so very easily
Tempted away.
By hollow huntresses like me.
And so I explained,
There's a bottle in my hand, oblivion
Doesn't know my first name.
It hasn't spread to my heart, though I know it's weight
For I've carried some shame.
But I was taught to feel gratitude
The same way I feel my own blood
-feel it coursing through me as the sun hits the autumn leaves.
I was taught to feel the same, about love.
For as long as I live and breathe.
But every day I get a little less sure on how it's achieved
Or if it will ever be
Ever be enough.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 4:09 PM UTC