One Night Stand
the crystal blue
sky
deepens
with
shades
and hues
as my love
deepens for you.
golden
stars
glide,
glistening
in the dark
depths
of night.
my hand
softly
sips
in
your smooth
edges
as
we dance
with
fire,
lighting
the empty possibilities
with liquid magic.
i swallow
this serene
dusk
with ravenous
lust,
hoping
to be filled by
the infinite
wonders
of this midnight dream.
But even the moon
fades
into dust,
and this love
will never last
past the
glassy
glow
of the
hopeful stars.
(so let’s dip our souls in this cloudless blue and let them harden like the golden memories of this unforgettable moment.)
Irony
"You have a gorgeous soul," said the one who would eventually break it. Beyond repair.
sweet as honey
his soul
seemed dipped in
h o n e y
pure and
s w e e t.
but i soon
r e a l i z e d
the
h a r d
way that this
h o n e y
was
d i f f e r e n t
than usual
for it was
b i t t e r s w e e t.
a f r i c a
souls
dipped in
saltwater and sand,
in african sunsets
and starry nights,
souls dipped in
the smell of coffee,
in the sounds of the river,
in the people's sweet words.
we carry them home
those souls,
dipped so deeply in the gold,
they drip.
Mortal Prose.
We are, all of us
Souls dipped in black ink.
Dragged helplessly along
An ivory backdrop of being.
Rigid arms, jagged ascenders where we struggle so.
Limp and lilting spines where we gave and bent.
Stresses and strokes and serifs
Carving out our stories in midnight black.
Spattered with droplets errant.
The typography of man
Draw by an invisible hand.
souls dipped in...
Some souls are dipped in honey
dripping sugary-sweet lies.
Some souls are dipped in wine
intoxicated and stumbling through life.
And some souls are dipped in poison
toxic to any who come within reach.
But your soul was dipped in it all -
a hint of honey
a drop of wine
a pinch of salt
and just enough poison to hurt but not kill.
You were everything,
and my soul was drenched in you.
Chocolate and Wasabi
Souls dipped in the gooey melted juice of popsicles and laughter, lake water and chlorinated pools, bubble bath basins and the blood of childhood boo-boos.
Souls dipped in broken glass and the black rolling mud of death, the deepest purple and black and blue, the terrifying knowledge adulthood should bring.
Souls dipped in unwanted attention, the quiet beg for loneliness, the loud quaking need for solitude instead of fortitude.
Souls dipped like bananas in an ice cream bar, the combinations sometimes making sense-- other times, things like chocolate and wasabi are mixed for a particularly strange child. The looks of other people in line, the server and even their own reluctant mother with her quiet protests unphased the young child from making her choice of the peculiarly disgusting chocolate and wasabi mix. Why is wasabi even on the table of a banana dessert bar?
The answer, though seemingly complex is the simplest of all time.
Because everything that happens to you shapes you, being dipped in glass and wasabi or the burning lack of love shapes you to be who you are; you are beautiful and you are strong.
bleached souls.
souls dipped in chlorine,
bathing us from the color
we stained ourselves in.
ridding our limbs
from each others' memory.
bleaching our skin
from each others' misery.
The Narrators
Souls are dipped in stories, dripping the wisdom of a thousand lives.
One: It was once disbursed to billion little places, displaced on an aging Earth, searching for its lost lovers like someone traveling the journey home.
Two: It's not halved, but two parts cling like magnets to one another, through the storms and the hardship and even through death.
Three are the lives of the broken shards, given away to others too soon. Not every piece is part of the same mirror.
Four are the forces of every existence. Life vs. Death, Air vs Earth, Fire vs Water. Spirit vs Object. The way the world balances out every being is with another equally opposite.
Five are the senses. Taste, Touch, Smell, See, and Feel. The energies that flow through every shred of being out there.
Zero and Infinity are the times with which we have to experience these things. For we are alive every moment until we die and live again. The incarnations of every reality ever created, every story that's been told or will be told.
We are the narrators of every challenge overcome, and every defeat. We are everything, and nothing at all. We are the past, the present, the future, and beyond.
We are those very souls, forever all over again.
Bloodsoaked
With their souls dripped in blood the two walked away from the crime scene hand and hand. Knowing their lives would never be the same the two sisters walked into the world as murderers for the first time. They stood still on the porch as red and blue lights shined onto their bloodsoaked skin and clothes. The girls didn't raise their hands, as they were instructed too. Instead, they simply stared into the abyss of gun barrels and megaphones. Their minds never registering the noises around them. The screams and demands going over their heads. Their brains stood still, silent and safe. They felt safe as hands pushed them to the ground and bodies piled on top of them. They felt safe as people crowded them with cameras and questions. They felt safe as the judge yelled guilty. They felt safe as the prison guard walked outside their metal bars. They felt safe knowing the monsters who raised them were dead.