Leaving Home

On a staircase:
Light streamed in the windows,
It was warm inside.

So young the two embraced
innocent bliss spread like butter
On fresh bread.

Flash forward, three words were said
Without comprehension and hearts ached.
Desperation of linked hands,
Of lingering butterfly swirl
And flowering angst.

A hundred nights had been burnt from the film.
Felt the reel crackling, dark smoke crawling, the
Brain-edit blur: moist adoration glitched memories
Of hot skin wet tears sweet laughter.

Brown eyes shone admiration and desire,
The yellow intelligence of girlhood burst forth.
Chilled by the azure penetration of blonde framed blues
It was snowing on the beach, while the sun scorched sand.

Tangled confusion consumed him for an instant of terror.
She clang and wept, funereal sobs like church bells tolled.
His face was longing impatience against the grey-white sky.

Whirred across hills and plains by eclectic tones fueled,
Jazz distortion of ignorance sang melodies of trees long dead
Still standing. The forest bled nutrients and fungi that
Crept sleekly, the brown decay of delusion.

Liquor burned delirious throaty laughter
In sad imitation of the feline screaming freedom.
She was nowhere. Lies festered, as maggots in an
Indigo green fennel stalk drooping into the cold dirt.

Explosion of awe:
Psychedelic demon’s grin
Grew inwardly and he shrieked.
Without hearing, silver organs groaned &
Speech failed to gap the growing void.

Icy phone voice
rang a young woman’s panic
and a young man’s rage.

It was frigid outside.
Dull light trickled through the windows.
A house fell.

By @d-pend

Picture taken near Pisgah National Forest in North Carolina. When I wrote this piece, I thought of this old, decrepit house. It is deserted and overgrown by vines and trees, representing the paradox of sadness and peace that comes through changing phases of life.