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Words And Fire:

She grabbed his arm

And he absorbed every number she wrote on his arm
Like a child getting a stocking full of candy

There was a sweetness to every number temporarily tattoo onto simple skin (skin also being a very easily washable thing,
There was a carefulness to it)

She left with a hasty kiss and a surprised mouth on the other end:

Fresh attraction

And new love.

I sat and watched a flower bloom that I hadn’t seen first hand for a while.

But flowers dies
But every train has a terminus
Just like every kiss
And although tombstones may come into the mix
Every love ends as well,
But the lucky ones make it there.

I bowed to kiss your feet,
And showing my scalp was critiqued.

(Unfinished)

Grass blew south in a hurry past wind chimes. 
the sun had drawn back hours ago.

Casper lay in bed, passing time as he usually did.

he formed words that weren’t quite ideas
and names that didn’t have faces.

phonetic failures.

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Snowman

I feel when standing
in the sun, I am melting.

I’m an ice sculpture
so well crafted

I can move amongst the world.
I can feign love, and humor,

hunger, and anger.
But sure enough, I’m melting.

a Non-entity 
So free

I’m doomed to repetition
to wait for each winter. 

Rehearsing

Is being well adjusted a character I play?
Do I treat the world as a stage?

When retreating to my space
I find my companion is always sorrow.

in the world, I smile, 
I gleam. 
I’m charming. 

Alone, I am ugly
Shallow,
and Transparent. 

Do I merely done the mask of enthusiasm? 
am I nothing but a mirror? 

(Draft)

My, my my, I’ve got sand in my veins
please hands off, try to refrain,
Touching my orchestra pit of pain
Oh, Now, I’m not full of shit
Honey I’m made of it.

My, My, My.

I used to work on Anderson Street
Got fired for being seen

Sipping on a cup wasn’t mine
"Sorry, sorry, Didn’t mean to drink your wine." 

I’ll just show myself the door
Seems that’s where always headed before
I get kicked out

"It’s okay, Been happening all day long."
Coming to an empty home. 

Cozy

You’re a stranger now.

And for quite some time I’ve been sipping my tea of memory thinking it weren’t so.

Thinking our love was something special, worth working on in winters and reinforcing for snow fall.

But in reality, I’ve just been sitting outside on the roof, shivering away.

Growing smaller for far too long.
I caught emotional hypothermia,
Bedridden by my depression
I chose not to love anyone else
To never leave this home I built
So fortified by concrete ideas
That our short time was worth
Years of waiting.

Because, that’s all I’ve been doing,
Is counting down each new years eve
waiting for my false sense of serendipity  
to kick in. 
And kick me awake, like a bucket of ice water after snoozing the alarm one too many times. 
I’ve been sleep walking through my relationships. 
I’ve been sleep walking through my whole life.

Because the tears that kissed my pillow after you left,
Are not the same tears that slap me in the face saying “Move on.”

The house I built was a dream.
What an obscene dream. 

Guitar

Love is like a guitar.
it sounds pretty as hell
and can make amazing music.
But unless it’s electric,
It’s hollow. 

Opting Out

I write with water 
instead of ink.

That way
The tree’s that used to make those pages
Don’t hate me for forgetting them.

It would be a different life
if I could bury those words in the ground
to feed old friendships

I’ve said goodbye so much,
I’m not even sure I remember
how to say “Hello.”

But if those friendships faded
and found new homes in the ground

Why bother digging up the dead?
Everything has to go sometime

So garnish that drink with a lime, 
and toast to the ‘Just-fine’
Fan club.

Sun

The death of passion can be catastrophic
But if you look at a nebula,
You know even death can leave behind something beautiful.

That’s what we are now.
Colourful gasses floating apart,
Like a portrait.

We didn’t eclipse,
You and I,
We were a supernova.

We collapsed into words and then expanded into fire.

I used to call this place home,
But it seems empty now, with a grand bed and lonely arms.

You were the catalyst to my nature full of fleeting sensibilities.

You were the punctuation on my nights when I was too lonely to sleep.

You were to reason to climb the barren branches of my brain, to come up with a clever word.

My voice was proud for you.

You aren’t here.
I let you down.
I’m a rorschach test without you, open to interpretation.
A taxi driven human being, letting others choose my destination.

I’m full of segregated emotions and sorry answers.

I procrastinated love.
I procrastinated your worth.
I put off my sensibilities and gave into animal tendencies.

I was an improper probability.
An illegitimate gentlemen.

I used to call this place home.

It used to be you…

But, now I know, I never knew the meaning of the word.

I used to dream of a quite house.
Back when I lived with laughter.
Siblings who never knew how to sleep soundly.
Afraid of the dreams that would come after.

Night terrors plagued one and
Attention, the other.
They’d rise at dawn
Simply to wake their mother.

Now I live in silence
In a home with no heating.
It’s such a simple thing
A home with no feeling.

Now I’ve got the silence,
Except for the ringing in my ear.

—————
S.F.

Polly Wants a Lover

Beware the Parrot,
The mimic,
The mime.

Beware the Parrot
His lusty
Long full smiles.

The Parrot knows
Songs
Full of fruitful lies.

He can fly
And sing
For miles.

Beware the Parrot,
The mirror
The mime.

He knows just
How to
Roost inside your mind.

He peeks
And pecks
And peers

And talks
And tears
And takes.

Beware the Parrot
The bird who
loves his words.

Beware the Parrot
The hypocrite
The thief.

——- S.F.