~Agatha~

you,

your fingers would dance over my skin like letters bouncing in poetry, your eyes would skim mine for the possibility of prose in your name, for words that you would seek comfort in. why do you look at me as if you were waiting for me to paint you in syllables and poetic phrases to beautify you? was it not enough that i signed off every emotion in my heart to your name? my love, my wrath, my every figment of existence, every thread that i hang upon—all in your name? your name is sprawled against my heart. my heart may be in pieces, but every vein spills blood with your name dripping off it. you've consumed me completely, love, and you search a poetification of yourself in my eyes? here. have it on paper. for permanence.

~Cinco~

“What do I remind you of?” I hoped to hear beautiful words uttered on parted lips.

She thought. “Like ash.”

“What do you mean?” My voice lost in my breath. God how pathetic.

“I don’t know.” The answer I didn’t hope to hear.

“Well,” She amended. “Like cracked lips and tired bruises. Your hair is like burnt embers and you voice shows me graveled coals. You smell of honey and pine despite the fact that there is no forests for miles around.” She smiled. I would die for that smile.

“So, broken” I finish.

“No,” She lifted a hand to feather my hair behind the shell of my ear.

“Like a blazing fire.”

There was a pause.

“So,” She echoed. “What do I remind you of?”

“Like everything thing I’m not.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be a good thing” I didn’t know, probably.

“You remind me of air. You bring life and can cool down. You have passion, but it isn’t the kid that burns everyone around you.”

“I like that.” She said, pulling my head to rest on her lap. I drawed out lazy circles on her knees.

“Just like fuel to a flame.”