Oh the wax
upon my fingers, burns of antecedent time; sticky and unpleasant. Drips of vagueness, like tears before bed. Crying appeal always so strange. The shape of you, a thin tall tower of white. Sometimes red, as my eyes staring at the dark's only light. Scented in desire, an orange jelly at her centre, I'd love you only now, but what of later's pleasure? The winds of my lungs kills the light, with it's dues of pressure. Ssssttt—goes the after echo, of wet fingers on wick. Feeling an empty dark without you around. A feeling once lit.
The bonfire is lit warm,
It is comfortable as a quilt. We look at the photos, Inside of our wallets. The parents, the wife and kids, Probably for the last time we kiss. Tomorrow is the final battle, We make a treatise with death. Either she takes the novice boys, Or let us send them to her.
My HP Poem #1928
in her clenched hand
she held a rose, recently wilted i saw its thorns dug into her palm like wire barbed small and unassuming gasping for breath she had the heavy scent of gasoline each iris was a lit match and she laid her gaze on me let me be your fuel, burn me down and lament over the ashes
with begged forgiveness, each tender wick a glowing reminder, each drop of wax a tear sliding down the father’s cheek. Having lit them all, I wait for him to come.
Candles are how we keep fires as pets.
we scoop the pyre into our palms and dump it into pots and expect it to stay lit on its own.
I keep getting worse at writing
From the texture of your palm in which I believed it was smooth when all this time it had been rough.
From the joy in your eyes whenever I'd look and stare at them as if nothing matters when all this time they were dull and filled with anger. From the sweet words you feed me in my everyday life where I believed every single word only to find out it was nothing but pure lies and empty. The laughter, the smiles, the giggles, the acts, the affirmation all of them were nothing but lies that hides from a beautiful face. But regardless how much I know this much was true, I couldn't help but to still choose you over and over again, until I set my sanity free and chose to be blinded by the beauty you had on the outside.
be careful when handling me.
my body was built with gunpowder, and someone lit my fuse long before we met. be aware that at any moment, I could burst. you can run away now and never look back, or you can wait here with me and together, we'll look up at the sky. it's entirely your choice. but, darling, if you can't accept the chaos inside of me, then you will have no right to comment on my beautiful explosion.