Ferrum

She had paper-thin hands. He had heavyweight eyes.

I.

She had paper-thin hands.
Carried her mistakes like a bulldog leash around her neck,
taunted with noises outside her grasp
and whips that made itineraries
all over her back.

II.

He had heavyweight eyes.
Flew chained to the runway he could not find,
in and out of sunrise breaking clouds apart,
drawing out the sighs of the sea
and the moors.

III.

On days like these she would scrape her knees like
the remnants of some other love lost and
she fully wondered what substance makes
blood so much thicker than
water.

IV.

When the seas calmed their breaths he landed silently
questioning the skies if it was pure coincidence
that his cells formed before hers or
was it a cruel act of a
malevolent fate?

V. + VI.

But the skies opened. Showered her lacerations
and rusted the chains fragile so he could
at last lift her up and feel her head
like feathers upon his shoulder and she sighed,
the skin peeling away to blood like paint through thinner
to remind all those who have drained her empty
that she wasn’t the one wielding the brush in
the first place.

After all,
they told him once that it would take
his throat torn out and her heart on a platter
to break this iron bond
because no amount of blood
washes out stains of so many years dusted underneath the carpet
by watchful eyes and violent hands.

Tomorrow, he might keep on singing
and she might keep on loving.
But tonight, they will tell each other stories of
those times when they had hopes to
fall back down onto and of searches through
thousands of pale faces in silent anticipation
of seeing the one capable of
making water thicker than
blood.

Reviews

[Jimmy Osbourne]

This was okay. I only read a little bit of it. I think we're just diametrically opposed in our writing styles. There's something good about it, I just don't know what. Keep writing.

[Wuji]

Little Birdie, this is not a showy piece, but burried within its nest are little gold nuggets. Its nucleus is opaque, its sky is cosmic. What I mean to say, a few powerful lines elevate it to a lyrical level of beauty that is hard to define:

1. He had heavyweight eyes
2. she wasn’t the one wielding the brush in
the first place
3. But tonight, they will tell each other stories

So it has an inner radiating coherence that ultimately has a power of synthesis that is unique to your creative-mind. I'd like to see some new work from you.