My Own Song of Fire and IceI could not have foreseen the warmth you would bring to my life,
though your fiery red hair should have been a sign.
Through a sideways smile,
you tell me you could kiss me forever,
and I oblige
in our own little overnight trysts
secluded from the world.
Your pale, icy blue eyes
are like sun showers, flash frozen.
A blizzard that locked away the painful moments of my past,
turning them into nothing more than tiny air pockets
in the solid surface upon which we now walk forward,
hand in hand.
With your touch,
you give me heated sighs
and chilled goosebumps both,
You are my own song of fire and ice.
I Cant Keep Your Secrets Anymore14/12/2014
You ashed your cigarette into my coffee
I pretended not to see
And you'll pretend not to care when I leave
Thats the place Ill be
The DancerAs I write this I am waiting for him. I can hear his footsteps getting louder and louder as they come toward me. I am completely alone. I do not know where I am and if there is anyone else out there looking for me. In my hand is a knife, and even I don’t know if I intend to use it on him or myself. Either way, this may be the last thing I ever write.
It began about a week ago, as I slept. I was having the strangest dream I've ever had.
At first it was just tapping, like the steps of a tap dancer. It was a low and quiet noise, so faint I wasn’t certain I had heard anything at all. They came through pitch darkness from a source I could not see. They sounded hollow and distant, far too distant for such a quiet noise to travel, and echoed despite not having anything visible to make them echo.
Stranger still was the rhythm. The steps bounced and clicked like a tap dancers, but seemed to follow no pattern at all. They came in bursts of inhuman speed then paused at random interval