annie-carter
 

It Runs Deeply



My bow was my survival -
I have four lifelines.
You are one of them,
I played your name.
The sound is rich,
Red, some kind of beauty –
The painful kind.


This melody is raw;
The tone sweet, cracked.
It runs deeply inside me,
Through my purple veins,
Like caresses, or flames.


And there, ‘caresses, or flames’, three words,
And I am clichéd and wowed into
Silent Disgust.
But then there is you.
I am purified in your gaze:
Breath stopped, never more
Alive.
That word in itself is a flame –
Red, White, Gold –
and I feel it as my bow catches the strings;


feel it as I wrap my warmth,
my blood,
Around this sculpture, so many miles out of my league,
Until we blend, break one another, pour salt over each other’s blistered skin,
Until, once more,
We are whole;
And your chords
Ring beneath my fingertips
And are airborne.


Wood over Pyrite,
The bass finally sings,
Creating my red –
But we crush softly
and I feel you as a star:
Only golden,
And more precious and more beautiful to me than you could ever imagine,
And I bathe in your gold-dust,
glistening, and something like happy. 


Annie Carter has been writing since 2006. She enjoys experimenting with poetry, flash fiction, plays and prose, and is fascinated by atmospheres, settings and themes related to colour and the senses. Some of her flash fiction can be found published on the Paragraph Planet website. She is currently an undergraduate jazz student at Leeds College of Music and continues to pursue creative writing in her spare time.