The edges of the paper
burn
loosely twisted cord
smouldering in the dark
melted tallow
and vanilla plum
the heat overcomes
the smoked-filled room
washes down her throat
shadowing windpipes
suffocating her lungs
sickly-sweet intoxication
the script melts
ink and promises
dissolve into night
black smoke left hovering
entwined
the words of her lover
lost
the oil lamp burns on.
J.CALVERT 2016
Advertisements
Interesting. This light from the candle the “tallow’ , it’s suffocating, the words of her lover obviously callous or fake — or at least lost to her even though the oil lamp burns on. Great writing Jenn 🙂
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you Mandi. Your comments are always extra special and thoughtful. Yes the room, the tallow, the flame, the smoke all gripping, intense. His love/lust lost to her. Was it ever there?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Phenomenal
LikeLiked by 1 person
😍 thank you!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
My pleasure 😘🌹😚❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wonderful!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks honey! 💗
LikeLiked by 1 person
Splendid word artistry Jenn! ❤️
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much MW! XXX
LikeLiked by 1 person
xo
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on firefly465.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for the reblog!
LikeLike
Very indepth writing…awesome
LikeLike
Thanks so much! Glad you liked it.
LikeLiked by 1 person