In the mirror, I watched his words blossoming between my breasts, his ink claiming my heart. I felt our truth—in flesh and bone, I was still mine… but I was his in ink.

Before you, I wrote,
merry-go-sorry ruled me,
my words were wary.
Trepidation (an old friend)
wonders what you ask of me.

the wee notes…
– To read other installments, visit my Web Serials page. The tales are listed under Ink and Feels. This is almost the end… I’ll post the last bit this coming Tuesday.
– Written for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (where Paul howled, “Awhape me!”), and for Hedgewitch’s Friday 55 (she wants kickass words and world peace).
Awhape means to amaze, and merry-go-sorry is a mixture of joy and sorrow.

Flesh and Sweat and Love

Secrecy made us the darkest of fairy tales, trickery turned shield. We ran and hid behind realities disbelief labelled fictions. Our love fed on shadowed moons, grew as strong and wise as the wildest of storms was harsh. My witch bled spells.

“To protect our hearts,
I give flesh and sweat and love,
submit to Nature,
charm a shroud of memories
to conceal her heart in mine.”

Her lips added no other words to the chant, but her eyes spoke clearly into mine—We shouldn’t have to be prisoners of the dark. I cradled her face, kissed the silver curls her magic had been weaving into her hair. “The night will never be a cage, my heart… Not while we are free to have each other in it.”

the wee notes…
– To read other installments, visit my Web Serials page. The tales are listed under Belle du Freak. This is a rewrite. Wish to read the original, “Spelling Brightness”? Just follow this link back to 2012.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads and Poets United.

Sweet and Dark Pleasures Should Be Shared

Most flowers save their delights for Spring. Not my Montauk daisy. She enjoys blooming for Autumn. Either that, or she prefers to flourish whenever Nature’s skirts go from greens to golds to crimsons… towards the arms of Winter’s dark.

Last week, I wrote about screams that meant nothing and of lovers who know ink. There was pleasure and chocolate and poetry… on Instagram (I brought it here, in case you missed it—sweet and dark pleasures should be shared with all). 😉

Pleasure is dark
and you,
whispering poetry
on my spine.

Speaking of sharing and of sweetness and of friends with spines…

Emma, mistress of Groovy Gothic, sent me a raven, a hammer, a blade, some dark words a red death. Yep, I’ve been grinning like the happiest of maniacs.

Stacy, from Magic Love Crow, blessed me with a murder of crows to stick with… I’ve stared at them for days, trying to figure out what surface deserves this beauty.

Then, when I thought my grin couldn’t get any bigger, Ms Misantropia presented me with a silver hammer that proved me completely wrong. My grin has grown to nearly violent proportions.

Emma, Stacy, and Katarina, you rocketh my October very mucho *wild giggles*. Thank you so much. I’ll treasure your gifts… always.

I’ve been doing wild things with words in them. What have you been up to?