Tender moments terrify the soul who speaks of courage of which I’m unsure. Nothing scares me the way you do, but I’ll find the movement to concur the mind. I must have you.
I cannot fight it. I’ll walk in circles until I can devise a straight line. The needs, the wants, the pieces, the parts, it ends, it starts. Fear separates and inflames the scars of the heart.
Please be calm. Quiet the coward; follow the will. Say what you want, do what you feel, take your time, but give me the thrill. And yes, I will be yours.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Drabble #15: Pounding, pounding, pulsating, breathing, dying needing
Pounding, pounding, pulsating, breathing, dying needing, he always wanted more. Heartbeat, bare feet are walking for a lifetime.
The percussion of the mind -- starts the rhythm, bring the rhyme. One step, one step, one step, he foxtrots over the mine; sweeping, only to bomb on the climb. Discovering dirt and despair, feels tears and tares to challenge his cares.
He might have died. He would have, he could have, he shouldn’t have, and he did not. He’s on the other side. He holds a hand that’s not his own. It moves him and the need for life he owns.
The percussion of the mind -- starts the rhythm, bring the rhyme. One step, one step, one step, he foxtrots over the mine; sweeping, only to bomb on the climb. Discovering dirt and despair, feels tears and tares to challenge his cares.
He might have died. He would have, he could have, he shouldn’t have, and he did not. He’s on the other side. He holds a hand that’s not his own. It moves him and the need for life he owns.
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