Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
It started with a fire
built with young leaves
and the ink from my pen.
Whether it is your fault or my own,
our lives are intertwined
in the flame.
Still, the breath of our moon
carries a message
to us both;
never offer up the slightest wave
of shame.

Calling from the ground is the rain
that found the wind
that blew paper from my hands.
A wind that practiced
the religion of picking up pieces
of broken hearts
and throwing them back down,
only to kiss their cries
with a stampede
of what they cannot understand.

A well thought out plan started out
with a fire built
with young leaves
and the ink from my pen.
It is not your fault,
nor is it mine.
If we can we ever stop listening
to the winds
that kiss the cries of our broken hearts,
from the flame, we would come
unentwined.
First line donated via the first line game. Special thanks goes to Jon Tobias for "It started with a fire". Thank you for letting me play. ;-{)
Jason Trinh Oct 2023
Slurring syllables; overflowed by a celebrated elixir, --
Though I find my solace, serene,
Death's design; the same as his; shadows intertwined
"Mine", as they argued -- mine!
...
Hush now, listen
To a fleeting youth; shattered heart; restless mind;
In exploration of what could've been, --
The fascination of a floral fabrication
Unentwined
...
Intoxicated-->
<--Mastermind
Making sense nonsensically, are we?
Jayne E May 2020
voices.

our bodies
once their
quintessential best
thought indefectible
the flourish
of faultless skin
now faintly etched
into the map
of our experiences
we change
shapeshift
rearrange
relax into our form
less perfect
more confident ease
than tempestuous storm

the human voice
though
stays forever
the same

7 years
silence broken
you were 22
again
at first word
spoken
tricked
into hearing you
using pet names
you'd long ago lost
the right to utter
speaking easy
as if none of it happened
still with your
smooth charm
like butter
that silken voice
abstracting my choice
once more

did you
(conveniently)
forget the
slaughter house
you made of our love
left it bleeding out
a good kick and a shove
in the gutter

you pour it on thick
like molasses
oozing
off your tongue
"remember em's?"
"when we were young...
....and in love?"
remember...
"my alpha & my omega
nose & toes
under cover lovers.."

My jaw still clicks
at times
when I'm tense
(like now)
a souvenir
click click click...
as your jaw *****
that
you miss me
that
we should
'get together'...
....'for old times sake'
did you forget
I'm filled with regret
or just miss
some of my bones
to break?

Sunday  morning
+
one bourbon too many
+
a sentimental lament
your bent
=
a return to nervousness
night terrors
& cold panic
for me.

Your voice
just as it was
unchanged
by time
you say so
is mine
forgetting
loves fruit
rotted on the vine
the pull of
your ocean eyes
scented nape
of your neck
the warmth
your body lent
to mine
not enough
to untangle the tendrils
or merge again
the unentwined
good try
but the point now
forever moot
head fuckery
at its best
always was
your strong suit

© J.C.
Apologies, to those who read before the tweaks.. I was not quite happy with this one, so this is the 3rd edit...lol...some don't come so easy or just flow out of the pen, especially those which are painful to pen...appreciate your patience & understanding.. J.**

— The End —