Tell me a story.
It won’t take long.
Just for a moment
let me close my eyes
and glide along the glassy
blue ocean waves of your voice
softly echoing in my ears,
pulling me in with the tide
as you breathe in between
each collection of sound.
Tell me a story.
Remind me
what it feels like
to fall in love
with words.
Your words.
The ones you join together
as if they were old friends
watching the stars,
connecting like constellations,
reminiscing of their pasts.
Tell me a story
about learning to fly,
the tops of trees tickling your feet
as you make your descent
back to the humbled Earth
who awaits your presence
to grace
I miss the stories
of angels bowling
late at night
when I was full of fright
back when your voice
was a song.
I miss finding patterns
in raindrops
as you remind me
one of the angels
is my grammy
winning
just for me.
I miss being afraid
that lightning
was my biggest threat.
I miss the thunder
being the only boom
that made me shudder.
I miss the days
morning dew
would dampen my clothes
as I lay in the grass
and the rainy night’s ghost
smelled of safety.
I miss the rain
descending from the sky
creating puddles
on the pavement,
soaking my socks
rather than having moisture
creep from my eyes,
exposing the mask
I started using
to hide
In the midst of this starry night
my body
aches
for softness.
An all-encompassing warmth
permeating a humbled glow
from the mere tips of your fingers
tracing last night’s dreams
along the veins in my hand
creating pure waves of euphoria
traveling through my bloodstream
right to the crookedly beating source
so you can unravel the entanglement of knots
your contact against my skin provoked.
My lungs are filled with your scent
and my mind is overwhelmed
with the way your eyes still seem
to shine in the dark.
You are all the stars
my hands wish to hold;
you are a galaxy
of words untold.
The Catastrophic Life of Charlie Blue by XmeowfX, literature
Literature
The Catastrophic Life of Charlie Blue
My alarm clock exploded.
Literally.
I was dreaming about Misha Collins (or Misha Meowins, in this case) as a Cat Overlord and my being his second in command. He was a glorious cat with a sandy colored coat of fur, with a blue tie hanging down from his chubby neck. Often I was pulling out strange items tangled up in his long fur, most commonly cherries and lilacs. It was a meowvalous job. He ruled an island called Furry Pawidise and my job that day was to help him decide whether to legalize cat nip in String City (for it was already legal in Collarado) because purrdestrians deemed it unfair that their meowyer, Jared