Flint against tinder is how it starts,
A spark will flare up inside your heart;
A phrase, a song, a page, or a scene
Can take over your brain, make you scream
For joy, for rage, for tears or for naught:
This is happiness that can never be bought.
And the wedding flowers were roses. by CompanyInDeath, literature
Literature
And the wedding flowers were roses.
Empty ink blots circle in my eyes,
splashing mercury tears,
splashing mercury,
splashing,
splash,
until the well fills up again.
Quill wrists broken, affix my stumps
to that glorious writing of the soul-pen,
gorgeous in its atrocity, that crimson ink
that spills from my uninspired hands.
Lacklustre notes ring on my ears,
grinding starlight teeth,
grinding starlight,
grinding,
grind,
until the diary is lost to fire.
I caw your tune so shrill and hollow,
and teeth kissed lips that remember blood,
the root flopping useless in your mouth,
painted with rose petals.
And the pen marries paper,
wedding bells,
and the blood marries razors,
living
