Betrayers

I though my words came from the pink of the flowers.

I thought the smell of coffee gave me the letters.

I though the waves in the sand were my notebook.

I was so wrong.

My words walk between the grey of the clouds,

and they move with the cold wind until they reach my hands.

The letters don’t want the warmth of the morning,

but the loneliness and apathy of the night.

The cement between allies isn't alone,

my notebook falls in it once in a while,

determined to be stroked by my poems.

I thought my sighs stroked my cheeks,

not scaled them.

I though the moon was on my side,

not on my dreams’.

I thought my fingers freed me,

not trapped me in a constant yes or no.

I was so wrong.

I suppose it’s my thoughts

the ones that aren't on my side after all.

Go down in flames

The end is inevitable and all the surrounding trees know it. They gather the conversations in their branches, waiting for winter to turn them cold and melt into memories with the snow. The laughter and the promises are waiting to be broken by the hot summer sun, who's hopelessly begging to be born again. He is waiting to walk hand in hand with the deadline of this bond. He will laugh at their ignorance and at the girl's pretend to be part of a landscape she's been cut off by her own mind. 

The boy and girl know what will happen, they'll jump into the spring gleam in the water and drown. They will be at the bottom of the lake, wondering why and how. They'll come up, far away from each other, finally breathing realization.

She will grab the flowers and tell them how confused she was, how misplaced her butterflies were. He will curse at the birds and explain to them how she made the snow seem whiter and how she spoke words she didn't believe. "Liar!" The sky will scream next to him, making a single tear flow down her cheek. A tear made of apology and anguish from what they once were. A tear sparkling distraction and mistake. A tear that will say "I told you so, you fool."