I know you are fire,And I am the ice...I'll melt if I play too close,But I trust you will not burn me.I will reach out for your flamesTo feel your warmth, your spark,And watch my fingers melt away.Your fire is everythingI've ever wanted.You burn so bright, so warm, so hot,Everything that I am not.You fire is hot, swift, and sweet,And I'm merely frosty snow and sleet.I am the Frozen TundraAnd you are the seven Hells.I know I will melt. I know. I know.But I've already melted, my dear,And perhaps you will freeze over.Won't you, won't you be my lover,And together, we will make a storm.
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Jessica Snow
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Home
Someone calls this place "home"When they return from being far awayFrom the twisting, winding roadsAnd the lights that flash at night.The same lights that reflect over the great lake,The lights that bring the ships to sleep,Those lights are guiding someone home.The winding roads that scale the hill,The mountain, the canyon, what have you...Cars zip by and twist and turn,Taking their drivers back home.As the night sky appears and the stars arrive,People forget to look out their windowsAt the great city beneath them.Ogle for a moment.Take it all in.This is your home, you are here every day,But what of the life below?
By Jessica Snow6 years ago in Poets
The Longest Minute
A minute. Sixty seconds to say goodbye. That’s all the time that I had left with him as the needle slid into his leg. I stared into his drooping eyes, looked at the blood-tainted saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth. They said that this was the best thing that we could do for him, a last kind act for a best friend…but if that were the case, then why did my heart feel so heavy?
By Stephanie Hoogstad6 days ago in Fiction
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