A Conversation

Weird Poetry

“But I don’t understand. Where is this all coming from?”, she said with a sense of pleading that dragged itself across the floor of the cadence of her voice.

“It’s coming from the engine.” He replied, stroking her pinkgilded cheek with his gaze.

“The engine?”, she said with tempered annoyance and a crinkle between her eyebrows.

He touched that sweet little crinkle with his thumb and smiled, “Yes. The engine of your heart.”

“But where does the fuel come from?”, she implored in reply, lowering her eyes to her scratched, skinned and bloody knees. She tried to cover her wounds with her shaking equally bloodied hands.

He looked at her until her eyes crashed into his, which had the feeling of colliding cloudbanks and soundless thunder,

“You, my love. You are the engine and the fuel.”

With that, she released a deluge of saltkissed tears

And bittersweetened verse

Not yet assigned a single word.




*** A convo with a guide from beyond the gilded veil… ***

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