Your words fall
Like stacatto vibrations on my tympanic soul,
Deafening drumbeats
Falling in percussive waves
That in the ensuing silence
Still ripple and crash
But not unfelt.


The Argument

The late night dancing raindrops shimmer
In headlights, as in the cold
We yearn for the warmth of a crackling fire.

Words fly, and the fire
Of pent-up frustrations shimmer
In tears of a love grown cold.

Though piercing words stream cold
And sharp, they fuel a fire,
Through memories that are but a distant shimmer,

And we discover a shimmer of cold love reawakening in fire.

ย  ย  ย ย