it’s cold outside my head
my brain sheds heat waves
but it’s not enough to warm the bed
without you here
a bright red thread
holds my heart together
but it’s not enough to cure my dread
without you here
i can bake bread
for one or for many
but what does it matter
rhymes are a false cry to blank skies
hear me and my misery
i’m the girl who writes sad poetry
when there’s nothing wrong
The Spark That Caused The Fire [Chapter 1] by RKAustin, literature
Literature
The Spark That Caused The Fire [Chapter 1]
CHAPTER ONE
Tena
In the early days, when the world still mourned the exile of Sofwa and her lover, bright Alkaio; when the scars of war were still fresh on the face of the hills; when the priors first swore their immortal vows and whispered the great secrets into the ears of kings, my mother died on a cool morning in late spring.
I pulled a worn blanket across her white face and sat, biting my lip. Since the barest light of dawn, when my mother began coughing blood into a damp cloth, I knew she would die, and die soon. Now, the sun has cleared the horizon of West Lock, lighting the tops of the salty waves. Distantly I heard them crash agai
The garden smells of coriander
beneath the cool grey clouds.
I walk the rows of springy herbs
and remember how you sound.
Beneath the cool grey clouds
I sit on the garden stones
and remember how you sound;
before you were dust and bones.
I sit on the garden stones
amongst the lavender leaves.
Before you were dust and bones
you were my love, who believes
amongst the lavender leaves
answers cling to dew drops.
You were my love, who believes
in change, in bounty, in crops.
Answers cling to dew drops
as the rain begins to fall.
"In change, in change, in crops,"
I chant, and begin to bawl.
As the rain begins to fall
the dirt turns into m
I place my cup into the sink
and think of now, my present link:
one who holds my broken pieces
one who rewires and releases
one who answers my ache with his own
one who feeds my gaze
one who speaks, and always listens
one who kisses gently
one who loves like he kisses
one who fits, perfectly, in my grasp
one who tells truths and remains
one who holds my broken pieces