After the storm

#FromOneLine #prompt 163

Verse for #FromOneLine #prompt 163 inspired by “Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.” from the play Tje Mourning Bride by William Congrove.

After the storm
Her soul lay bare
A torrent of words
Gushed out in fury
Suppressed, repressed
Now phrases unruly
Unabashed, unashamed
She ripped the veils
Shattered, battered
Pretenses swept away
Silent rage, now a surge
All trauma, finally purged

Words

You thrill me, Words
As I twirl you around
On a pencil tip
Or a blue pen nib
Then you gently lie
In exhaustion,
On reams of white
Until I pick you up
To dance on my lips
As verses and stories
Songs and mysteries

The Muse

You were always there
In every moment and anecdote
In the manuscript of my life
You were the trapped sighs
Between tattered book covers
Tangled in a web of my words
You were my story, unspoken
Unheard, until you become
My poetry, prose, and verse!

Unsaid

#FromOneLine 146

Those who leave with words unsaid
Stir up longings, buried yet not dead
For one can only wait and wonder
How their world was ripped asunder
Songs of love, once carefree, wild
Now broken chords, when lyrics died

Cadavers of love

Warped lies embedded
In the nucleus of your being
Tilted fantasia
Twisted mockery
Of ethereal tenderness
For it was never real

Silken trail of togetherness
Sodden with maggots
Carcass of words
Infested with falsehood
Almost sounding true
Under the dying moon

Raven-eyed, the lost prowl
For cadavers of love
Scavenging in ribcages
For a heart beating
Still yearning with desire
To find true intimacy

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