This piece should have gone up last week but didn’t and I am so sorry! Here it is ♥️
This Sunday’s post will be up shortly.
I hope August is treating you well so far. This week it was a pleasure to share so many gorgeous pieces by FVR’s contributors.
This week’s prompt was ‘love in the dark’ and here are the top three responses:
I hear darkness calling out my name,
capsuling the warmth of fireflies,
and melody of unfurling winds.
For the love of wickedness and
the sake of love in the dark,
coaxing and tempting with the best.
The moon rains over the blades of grass,
waiting for their diamond shine.
Dark silhouetted trees swaying in unison,
profiling a profound affinity to harmony.
Was it love cuddled in the black blanket,
or a maze game set up,
by the dark queen for her victims?
Any note was welcome for
I was not scared of her and her army.
I have done this before–
the mind game and the hide and seek.
The dark tune was not new to me,
for my soul danced to it.
If she was the queen, then,
might I be called upon as the princess.
Galloping on my wildest dreams,
on the darkest of nights,
I have kissed many a frogs,
but none turned to be the charming prince.
Yet I love darkness than light,
for it gives me the pleasure of vision,
to penetrate the thickest of skin
and hardest of hearts.
Darkness has given me love too.
I have travelled on moonbeams,
and flying on the clouds,
I have reigned a kingdom of dark love
And one day, I still hope,
to find my prince among my dreams.
bare-bones / wed to abandoning in-utero
fingers; the apple bursts
like an appendix / and the sea
breast to breast / is a mistress
to the Kalahari sun
/ mouthing /
to my moon
“death goes to the worms” / alien touch / my love has gone /
threnody and dream,
as if the Earth is glass /
stranded / to the ghosts /
of ourselves / this is the body
of sand / my love
is soon gone to / plasma
/ in the lights /
threnody and dying
the sea is an insomniac
maniac / to the glassy
violets / and stargazer flowers
spawning on an inch of Autumn
death; stroke the worms’ gut
death feeds them well when we’re
eventually gone /
I tire to grief / alien touch / I withdraw from / the moon’s fingertips /
for my love has gone.