Was it ever meant to be? | Teen Ink

Was it ever meant to be?

May 8, 2013
By KYBRZ BRONZE, Tracy, California
KYBRZ BRONZE, Tracy, California
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

For your smile, the sun would heed.
Delacroix with horsehair, scads of complacence
could not trace the shadow of perfection.

My hand was home.
Swinging at the height of intimacy,
fingers laced and inhibitions silenced.

***

Black.
Obsidian knight cut through the night,
Charging forward.
Halogen cuffs ignite a low growl.
I clench rawhide with
prowess, commonly unheard.
Steam or smoke, a soul I could not tell.

and

I placed my head on your chest.
Amorous quiver, strong then soft.
Light eyes, light lips,
the darkness could not censor your handsome sum.
Our bodies laced, wet grass sparkling in the humid moonlight.

****

We built a fire,
it was our child.
Smoked out the entire world.
Silenced it. Choked it. Gagged it.
Its eyes were stung, ash and tears it could not see.
Bogged up and nullified to a single heartbeat we both felt.
Happiness.
Sleeping under our Belarusian blue moon.

*****

The sun was slammed, its hinge was flustered.
In flatline limbo, the clouds swung slant.
Passionate heaves coughed snow and black tendrils
came to claim their lightning consummation.
I'm crazy because I let the rain come.


I could not shake the shiver.
I could not stop the winter,
from slipping through your body's cracks.

I tried to keep your head dry.
My skin cried,
the rain kept coming.

****

Lies laced sonically,
throat rusted by cylindrical nicks.

Such beautiful pitch, mangled and transposed to vicious snarls.
Such cruelty dredged from the bottommost chest.
Such hatred slammed onto the bird's-eye maple,
as if awoken suddenly.

Purity in honesty, I suppose.
But in unison my heart
stopped
short.

***

Proletariat love was spun gold.

Harlot love wore washed-out cashmere.

Dead love can last forever.

[Coincidence is fatal,
because you cannot see,
that kisses are like shooting stars--
fleeting bouts of heat.

They blind you with their beauty, caress you with their warmth,
but take a step too close,
and they scorch what's set forth.

Suspended aimlessly in space,and burned to third degree,
you cannot help but wonder,
was it ever meant to be?]



Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.