Don't touch that. The fork's sharp
on his wrist. Dean's guarding his pie,
but his look says he felt the touch
like skin to skin same as Sam.
Oh yeah try and stop me.
Twitched fingers and a mischievous grin.
Pressed, the fork breaks skin.
Sonovabitch!
Wait your turn, Dean retorts.
Side by side in the motel mirror, one arm up,
a hand to graze his cheek. Just a gash, he bluffs,
not that bad. He gets a frown. Yes it is.
They are both stripped. Bare souls.
Pink again? How come nothing
ever comes out clean anymore?
It’s so dark right now, Sam. Can’t see. Sammy…?
in the morning he yawns
presses against protracted time
feels the heat of him
whose heart holds them against
the stretch of eternity
in one moment
alarm blare vibrates along the hair of his arm,
attenuated time from the slap of his palm to the
grip on the halo of warmth around his waist
There’s sweetness curling in my chest.
It spirals when you’re safe, twists inside me.
I will keep you safe (for a kiss)
I will keep your soul
I had to share this. It was entirely unintended to turn into a poem. This was an exercise between 5 friends, to try to write a short story about two characters (named Sam and Dean) using only 140 characters, including spaces and punctuation. Only two of the works were intended to compliment each other (the two about pie, and the two about waking up in the morning.)
But I strung them all together, and look what happened. Cool, hmm?
I've been writing poetry again, so I'll try to post some soon. Also, my website is finally back up, here.
Hope all are well.
