So, this is my first go at prose poetry…? (If that’s what it actually is. I fail at definitions of poetry form.) I took some inspiration from the Merlin/Nimue myth, but I think that this did evolve from that into its own story. I’m happy with some parts, I think. though not all. I feel like I’m getting a little better at this editing lark. A little. Maybe.
As ever, comments & critique are much appreciated! I also have some exciting bookish things happening at the moment, but I’m sadly not allowed to talk about them yet. (I promise, I’m not just giving annoying cliffhangers. *glares at Pierce Brown* Though that wouldn’t be too far a stretch of the imagination. But I’m not, I swear! 😉 )
Lady of the Lake
i. she is volatile, mercurial. she likes to bait the sleeping bear just for the fun of it, but you look away because she’s a wild thing, too.
ii. your skin is stained with her consonants and coffee breath rhythms. her eyeliner is as much a drug as her cigarettes and all of it is addictive.
iii. when you asked for a wizard and received a witch, you didn’t realise how different they were. her contradictions are your cure, but they tell you they’re a curse. you don’t listen. you tell her everything, anyway.
iv. you sign away your heart at the altar whilst she kisses another behind the church walls. she is a fickle being, but you love her, anyway.
v. you don’t know how to calculate theorems anymore, unless it’s from the geometry of her face. her mind is filled with star birth and supernovae against your own worn torchlight.
vi. she is a broken thing, but isn’t that the way geniuses always are? she falls apart from the fault lines on her skin and you can’t seem to unravel the strings between you.
vii. you know that she is your death and your drowning, but as you surrender yourself to her lips you start to think that maybe it no longer matters.