She’s fair as the sea—
her faroese folklore flourishes—
while he is murky as the deep.
Avast, he’s, her lighthouse!
She’s salty as a silkie seal spouse.
Together they’ve meshed like a powerhouse.
Their treasured souls are buried like caissons.
Non-mystical, however hard she tries,
will she always be tactical as a destroyer.
Does the non-mystical make him shiver?
Does it?
At last, no more seasickness!
His arms’ homey persistence
fold her in epic whirlwind romance.
How he mourned her stormy seafaring bleakness.
Does her stormy seafaring bleakness make you shiver?
Does it?
Out of the dimness,
he’s guiding the twosome homewards.
A last name hyphenated like portmanteaus,
an exchange of vows reminiscent
of rims of an underwater volcano
A non-mystical, however hard she tries,
Seafaring sings shanties like a stormy force
Does the non-mystical make him shiver?
Does it?
About the Creator
Saroyan Coles
I want to empower others with my writing. I have always dreamed of seeing my name, on something.
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Two Wrinkles In Time
It is pointless to run, my darling, because sixty seconds ago, I will kill you. My blade will have sliced reality open right in front of you. It will have first pierced it as it would a bed sheet left hanging to dry, flapping in the wind on a Sunday afternoon. But the metal will have drawn a line in the air that the ghostly tear will have followed. Then I, La Dyablès, machete firmly in hand, will have emerged from what your mind, at the time, could only interpret as the other side of here—whatever that means to you. I know. I have seen that look on the faces of countless unlucky… clients. You will not have been the first nor the last to try and reneg on a riches for soul contract only to present this visage to me when I come to collect.
By Lily Séjor6 days ago in Fiction
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