Love Me Hard

Lightning doesn’t have to kindle firestorms. While we feed on each other’s flame no other heat will take us apart. Love me because we’ve tasted the scarlet ink writing our souls to heaven without hammering flesh and bone to pieces.

if you know me well,
you will love me hard… knowing
I’ll love you better

 

Fire of Love, by Samarel

 

the wee notes…
– crafted to life out of the replies 13 of you provided when I asked what the senryū portion of this haibun made you feel. Thank you for writing with me, my Wicked Luvs. You can read the actual responses here, here and here.
– for Hedgewitch’s Friday 55 and Poets United.

 

Meaning Well Isn’t Good Enough

“Warning, my love,” he says, his tone a soothing dance between dark humor and unease, “They’ve given me fresh corpses.”

I reach for the bouquet, sighing when the plastic shroud crackles against my open palm. “They mean well,” I say, kissing his mouth, looking into eyes that mirror my own in thinking, Meaning well isn’t good enough.

To the sacrifice, I whisper, “Wilt gently, darlings, I will preserve your bones.”

I wonder, wonder…
if cut flowers ever think
of dying for love

 

 

the wee notes…
– I don’t cut flowers I’m not going to eat or use for some sort of remedy. Since my Piano Man knows this, he tries to let people know so that they won’t present them as gifts after shows. When all fails, and people insist in showing their love for music with a bit of death, I dry the flowers, keep them for a while… before giving them back to the dirt.
– linked to Poets United.