Lava

Lava

It is amazing, the flagrancy we humans will expend
for a momentary thrill. Take a fireworks display.
Have any two people walked away from a night of bursts
and discussed a single one in detail? Evaluated it?

But it was somehow enjoyable en masse.
One will explode in a brilliance of red. The next, white.
And there was the happy face. And then the hearts.
The climactic crescendo -- a conflagration of expenditure.

And we make our way back to the car. Everyone does.
But when you and I get in ours, a certain electricity tells me -
There has never been an invention of man, to match
what happens when you erupt - It is not red, it's crimson.

Lava.
There is no smoke rising from the heat of your body
when I kiss you back down to earth. On our new island.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2015 --

The Smell Of It All

The Smell Of It All

I
recall leaning forward to the envelope. If anything
bought
my suspicion it was that. For all appearances
you
had failed to send it off. I'd every intention of doing
that
for you. But oh, the scent was rising. And then, the
very
name, uttered in your dreams at night appeared, the
fragrance
seeping through. All within me screamed, This is the
last
thing I want to do to you. Invading the privacy of your
Christmas
cards. What kind of a man would do this? I opened it.
And
what did I find, my darling? The unfathomable act of
you
betraying me. The smell was now ugly. Words inside
sent
astray, the last breach of integrity. You love him?
It
is to end this way? Want him to smell my gift to you?
To
"be in his arms, on New Year's Eve"? You wish to be with
him?

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2015 --