her eyes are like the flowers on my doorstep:
brilliant, glowing with vibrant color.
her secrets are like the coals in my fire:
red-hot, tender, secluded. deadly.
she hides them with her passionate flames,
that scorch her surroundings through her words
and unquenchable opinions.
the kids, they call her “ember”
or some times “fire girl”,
because she always seems
to be burning like a pyre.
one night, as we watched the stars,
she whispered in my ear.
she revealed to me her secret coals,
hiding behind the flames.
every word was painful, every syllable burned,
but her tears would heal my angry sores
and stay my inner fire,
and by the end of that long night
i had claimed her as my own.
i swallowed her fire, i embraced her pain,
and now that her secrets have scorched my heart
i know why she must burn.
i know a girl—
she rages like a fire.
but when she smolders down
to searing coals, she is ten times
more painful.
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Comments
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I thought you said f o r e v e r over and over.
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"I’m not a writer—I just have an unhealthy obsession with words."
fluttery
thing.
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keep your head above this water.
thank you sooo much.
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"I’m not a writer—I just have an unhealthy obsession with words."
[link]
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keep your head above this water.
Perfection. Just pure perfection
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"I’m not a writer—I just have an unhealthy obsession with words."
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La la la la la la la lie...
it's brilliant.
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we're going down, down
in an earlier round and
sugar we're going down swinging
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Adrenaline, Adrenaline, please come out to play?
<3 Ashen
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