I don't know

If you're

Distant

Because you

Don't love me,

Or if it's

Because you

Think I don't

Love you.

I touch your tears

as they weep on languid pages

like a solitary drop of rain,

leaving sodden traces,

seeking the sun’s solace

and the warmth of my ink,

trapped as a character

existing only in a novel.

I see your pooled green eyes

imploring me to gather you

into my story so that you

can escape your heartbreak.

But it is I who begs

to escape the confinement

of my imprisonment

in the cold world of phrases.

You can close the book on me

and I’ll still be there while

you make furtive escape

from your reality, feeling

the catharsis my words

have gifted you as you

go one living in your flesh.

I can imbibe your lilting voice

emanating from your world

but my existence stays

in swirled idioms

as I yearn to hold you,

tightly, in more

than erotic thoughts.

Your lips trace my words

and moisten my ragged pages,

which fall in scraps

around my hidden heart.

I want to consume you

in my burning novel

of erotic happenstance

while your life

occurs and evolves

without me.

When you slam my book shut,

you leave dog-eared corners,

poignant evidence you melted

my inner core,

partaking of my sustenance,

without ever responding

to the hardness of

my scroll inside you,

loving you as I bring

you to the ultimate in life.

Every time you open

my book, it is as if

you have opened your body,

spreading your legs

to me and have returned

once again smelling of

fresh rain allowing me to

inhale you and incorporate

you into my passionate embrace.

Your emotions transcend

your denials as my need

for you filters through

and touches your skin,

feeling your dew

as you flush and

become aroused.

I bleed crimson nouns

and sensual verbs

for you, as I emote

in my novel,

finding myself dying

in the middle of

a heartfelt sentence

of promise and love.

I will never forget

the lingering look

of lust and desire

on your face

as you closed my book

with only a backward glance

and ran off with

a character in

another piece of fiction.

Why couldn’t you see

that I was the only tome

you would ever need?

Mysterious Beginning,

did you have a start?

What parts of you,

through and through, are conglomerate at heart?

Why is my relationship?

Undefined as it may be.

Did I have some leadership,

am I slacking at said duty?

If fault finds not,

and blame is my game,

is evil my nature or

am I a crock?

And as time is told,

what might you be?

And when it's out what stops?

Is truth in tale or forwarnings hale to be taken seriously?

Or is it as reliable as that, that is pliable for a wooden balcony?

I'm always the last to know.

Is the Prose bookstore where 

you can read, 

compile what you've written, or

write something new, 

and share a book 

for free or for a fee new?  

How novel and delightful! 

Hmm

-jcscripts.com

Image Source:  Google

I sang alone

a bittersweet melody

until you perched beside me

started a spark

spontaneous combustion

molecules of lust entwined

resonance igniting

bonding of lonely atoms

an artistry of chained electrons

your chemistry asking me to stay

mixtures of chemicals

changing patterns

opposites attracting

optical radiation

of blinded impulses

connecting and completing

fused motion of fluidity

volcanic eruption

merged together

in human passion

of entangled ions.

For those of you who are not familiar with PB&J, I'd like to take a moment to clarify what this is and how you can participate.

So what does PB&J stand for? No, we're not talking lunch here! PB&J stands for Prosers Battle and Jests. It's where one Proser challenges another Proser to a "dual" of literary insults. Think rap battle or poetic debate, depending on your style!

So how do you get in on the PB&J action? First, it's best to message the Proser you would like to battle beforehand so they may respectfully decline your challenge, accept your challenge and establish guidelines to acceptable slander (if you'd prefer your mama be left out of the literary insults, this is the opportunity to say so), or reply in modern medieval fashion, "Bring It On!"

Once the challenge is accepted, with or without guidelines, and you're ready to post your literary insults, be sure to include the name of the Proser you are facing in the title and please tag PBandJ so it can be featured on this page. If you simply prefer to sit back and enjoy as a spectator-that's great too! Show your support by following PB&J and repost to spread the word!

We hope to see more jousting in the arena so polish your armor, prepare your lances, and get in on the PB&J action! It's all in good fun folks!

I should confess.

I should turn myself in,

And let the jury handle the rest.

I am guilty.

Although not pre-meditated,

I worked quite neatly.

No weapon,

No prints.

I'll have no one to convince.

I didn't know this person,

I have no motive to kill.

Is that lying under oath,

If I did it for the thrill?