Tronnor One-Shots

Seas and Tides: A Freestyle Poem

You and me, my dear Troye,
We are the tide:
Angry;
Speaking with bulls in red rooms,
In which you are on one side,
And I on the other;
Separated by why we fight,
Heated by the criminals of my demons.
They pounce on you
Until your tenderness is gone,
Missing;
Lying among the spare change between the couch cushions.

Feelings clash,
You make me mad,
A wrecking ball with spikes attached;
Pushing, tackling, toppling
Each other's self-esteem.
And I attempt to drown you
In empty accusations:
Irrelevance and bitter pasts.

You burn me in return
With the acidic words you spit
On my neck,
In my eyes;
You toss a wave,
I toss one back
To uncover a validation,
Never to feel good,
Never feeling right,
Never validated.

Saying it still,
With no regard,
Screaming like it's a cure:
In rasping yells
Of our shredding vocal cords,
Of bleeding hearts,
And bleeding tongues,
And evaporation;
We boil our fear,
Our doubt,
Into a cloud of misperception;
Scarlet fog twirls,
Angry, manipulative to the eyes;
We see what we see,
However,
The person we love is not our attacker.

I write you this,
Because the moon will always shift;
I write because, when the tide is low,
My mind has room to understand:
You are everything.
With you, my world is softly aglow
With silver stars of Eden.

You take me there;
In perfect silence you take me there
With your lips
On mine in a way so familiar.
And I listen,
Closely, closer,
The movement;
The pace;
Soothing
Like the slow lapping of waves on the shore.
Salty like the waves as well,
But coddling my nerves into a state of numbness,
Sureness.
Utter calm.

We lie in the silver evening,
Making movements small,
Precious,
Almost as beautiful as your velvet hands;
The pink of your lips;
Your eyes like individual universes,
Starlight shining blue.

I fight with you;
My demons have your blood in their palms,
Your secrets up their sleeves,
But so do my angels.
They cup it in their hands,
They slick my heart with the essence of you,
Push the rose into blooming;
My passion,
Forever swooning;
Your beauty.
I pump you through my veins
And it is a tired phrase,
But you complete me.

We are like the tide:
Angry,
Calm,
Insistent and caressing
Each other:
Hair and hands,
Through the hardest waves;
And know this my darling:
If I am a drop of water,
You are the entire sea.

My dearest,
My Troye,
You are where I belong.
So tally our low tides,
One by one.
Because, with each line,
I'll only love you more.

C.F.

*****
Just to clarify, this was originally a slam poem I wrote, so most of the effect was based in saying it aloud. I tried my best to edit so it looks good versus sounding good, so I hope I achieved that haha

Sydney :)