Charlz

They warned him that she was mad.  He did not believe them... until she took his heart and started to write poems with his blood. “Do not worry,” she said, “for every poem is stained with a kiss.” She wrote a hundred more. It was a fantasy that was never meant for any human.  But he did not want to let go... until she evoked ghosts and ancient spirits  to hold him tight.  “Do not move,” she whispered.  “I also want to write poems inside your body. If you move, it might hurt more.” She stabbed her golden quill into his skin and wrote until midnight, until there was  no more space in him for another poem.  Tired yet smiling, she asked, “Do you like it?” “Whatever makes you happy,” he groaned,  not knowing if he was dead or alive.  “But, please tell me, do you also love me?” he asked.  She looked at him, her glassy eyes pure and innocent, “I only write because of you, my love. You make me a poet.” Then she kissed him, and at once he knew t

The world was a playground for fools like him Until she came, lily-like in the wind. He had to stop, he had to pause and look: She was a force of nature, A beauty of a fairytale in a book.  And all that he thought was best in the world Began to crumble at her feet.  He stared at her, quietly melting, As she walked past him Unaware she was glowing. 

   With her arms crossed behind her back trapped in a pillowcase, she was a candle in the night “Write a poem on me” she said and I obeyed, very carefully First, with my lips, then with my tongue, I wrote slowly on her canvas while she held me with her eyes – eyes that spread out like branches touching the biggest stars More luminous than the evening, I tore the night to pieces and dipped into her soul “Be gentle” she whispered with a sigh, like a soft flower to the moon while I continued to contemplate the fire, burning her secrets with my desire With my lips replete with her kisses and her breaths breaking on my skin to the sound of grace, she bit my shoulder, and pulled me up from the depths of the earth to the sun blazing in her body I pressed her cheek against the pillow and watched her melting, with every thrust The sheets, wet and swollen, wild with dreams She whimpered, crying tears of the moon – yet she was glowing We died that night We died that night when I sank deep into he

The only  thing   that  matters  is what  you      write  on  the  paper. Everything  else    is  not  real.