bite too hard with
flirtation, the bittersweetness
of hesitation will snap back,
but my lips and tongue will
already be numb, unable
to string together words
or hum emotionally charged songs
to unwind my growing discontent.
i squint in the hot sun, sweat curling up
into spicy tears under my eyes.
i’ll put on my sunglasses so
you won’t see the glare of
hope becoming jaded and undone
you’ll believe i’m none-the-wiser
to your lies

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: spicy

repair shop

heartbroken and filled with beer
the lonely one tried to tear down the walls surrounding
fears of love, but pushed and shoved
a little to much, and with a harsh touch
the guitar shouted and snapped under the distress
the lonely one drags himself and his musical mess
to the repair shop. the repairmen daily, nightly
mopped up the dreams, emotions, regrets, and desires
which often pooled in drains and collected under
tires as people tried to wash away, drive away from
all of the things that just seem to stay. the repairmen
looks every which way to mend those bent, broken,
scratched, and ugly things – he attempts to do this without
poking at bruises and sore emotional seams, he brings
up the weather,  it’s a shabby grey rain, eh? and
his customer sadly reaches out and pets the window,
drawing lines and circles into the raindrops
with not so harsh of a touch anymore, he was worn
out, wondering if his guitar would still have the
same voice, familiarity, and warmth as before