Love hangs in the balance,
of an everlasting truce.
Love hangs in the balance,
of an everlasting truce.
Which witch was it that stole my sandwich?
I bet it was that one form Norwich,
she’s always eyeing my tasty pies and snacks,
what a hack – I’ll put her in a sack!
And tie her to the post in town
where all the kids can see her frown
and throw pumpkins, and other things
at her face and scowl, until she sings
Until she owns up to being a thief
and causing me to stand and seethe
Just you wait you silly witch
How dare you mess with my sandwich!
Ok so this was a fun prompt! Go join in the fun with Linda G Hill – SOC Prompt
I could have loved you,
but you didn’t see the magnitude of my request.
You were not able to feel the weight
pressed into every word
scribbled, on tear stained paper.
I would have loved you,
if, after careful consideration
you’d told me,
it was too much – I was too much.
You just couldn’t comprehend the change,
not just of lovers, but whole lives too.
Perhaps, being apprehensive, you were scared,
unsure of your feelings, where they lay,
and who with.
I could have loved you
for wanting time to contemplate.
I could have forgiven you,
of being unaware of loaded pressure,
for not sharing the burden
of the ticking bomb I held in the dark.
I would have forgiven you
for not understanding my clumsy plea.
Not seeing through the flimsy charade of subtext
that was so easily dismissed.
I accept this fault as my own
I would have loved you
with your words recanted.
After nights of indecision,
If your voice had only offered emotion
rather than indifference.
I could have loved you.
Even after the painful walk home,
of shame, of sadness, of anger.
Devoid of affection,
But when days and nights pass
into weeks, then months,
and eventually she leaves you
for another man, another baby.
If after all avenues have been scoured,
options weighed up,
and my offer of love is recalled
from the depths of its ashes.
When you want me to love you
and wonder where the fire has gone.
I could have loved you completely
Only the timing was wrong.
There must be something in it
Some method – some madness
Some sacrificial ritual to evoke
To claim their eyes and ears
Sew them to my words
And raise my vision
From the grave of poet tears
In July I will write,
I shall carve out my heart
Paint only by the light
Of a weeping orange candle
I will relinquish all ink
To glean admiration
Soak parchment in hope
With this incantation
By the waxing fingernail
Of an August moon
I will pray to all Gods
For answers back soon
I will bake lots of cookies
Bare all of my secrets
Stitch buttons on poppets
Post each judge to keep it
I could stalk them on twitter
Devour their heroes
Smuggle a cheque
With several zeros
Bribe them with candy
Kidnap their cat
Sneak in some Semtex
And that would be that
Oh what am I thinking
Oh where has this led
I can’t share this poem
That’s stuck in my head!
Is it a bit too early in the day for this? Ah what the heck! *grins*
Sometimes you have to lay still a little while
Just to make sure that nothing is broken
Except your heart.
She heard the screams before she realised: it was her own throat producing them. Instead her mind was firmly fixed on the heat, and the rope, and the searing pain behind her eyeballs as her flesh melted into the hemp. Closing her eyes tightly to block out the acrid smoke, she tried to gather her last bit of energy in a struggle to get free. The flames licking at her heels were no longer the biggest threat, if she couldn’t get her wrists free from the knots, she knew it was game over. She had always been a fighter but failure seemed inevitable.
He knew this as he threw the lighter into the carefully prepared bonfire, she had set his heart aflame and then torn away any hope he had for the future. He said he would return the favour as he said his goodbyes.
A soul telling your mind what your heart bleeds for.
They exist. I can taste it.
she writes stuff sometimes.
Text in ya face
Live Your Philosophies
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