I:
The drunk says he can handle bars— but I just
handle handlebars, chasing thoughts downhill,
gripping acceleration on life’s crooked road,
her words tasted like lightning—a storm reigning
in my chest. If the truest lover’s tongue can write
the truth, truth still needs a page— so promise
me this time I won’t crash in the margin.

                        She:
         But darling, I gave you shape; I traced
                                 your edges in circles, crossed out the shadows
                                 of your past. You were a box caged in squares,
         I bent the lines, bisected all of your fears—
                                 in the middle, we met like intersecting skies.

I:
Your kiss felt like a riddle— a puzzle mouthed
in motion, syllables pressed against skin, body
language shelved in cynical libraries. I wanted
to read you without tearing the pages.
   
               She:
        I am neither saint nor sin, just a storm
                             pressed close to your skin. Claustrophobic,
                             yes— but don’t mistake that squeeze for chains.
                            I’m the thunder that reminds you to breathe,
                            the silence that steadies the wheel.

               Together:
     Handlebars shiver, storms bend the ride,
     but still we grip, still we glide— every fall,
                    every bruise, a geometry of love rewritten
                    in motion. Here we are, pedalling into the
                    pulse of rain. Handlebars & Hurricanes...

H. In darkness,
R. shadows weave their silent threads,
H. whispers dance where moonlight dreads.

H. In light,
R. golden rays embrace the dawn,
R. hope reborn, the night withdrawn.

H. If I’m still broken,
R. let the wind collect my sighs,
H. stitch my soul where sorrow lies.

H. Laying despairingly in this life,
R. like a leaf in winter’s hand,
R. drifting lost through barren land.

R. Yet even roots in frozen ground,
hear the call of spring’s soft sound.
H. Through the cracks where teardrops fell,
hope still blooms, a quiet spell.

your song didn't need lyrics
I heard everything
in your breath
against my neck
cigarettes
your hands insisting
a duet

Duet, Minor Key
by Michael R. Burch

Without the drama of cymbals
or the fanfare and snares of drums,
I present my case
stripped of its fine veneer:
Behold, thy instrument.

Play, for the night is long.

Keywords/Tags: Duet, minor, key, cymbals, symbols, drums, fanfare, snares, instrument, play, ***, night, long, strip, ****, naked

"Demons sing,
Throughout the horrid night,
Hoping to cause,
A little fright…"

I don't know why,
But the terrors so good.
We stay here and lie,
Maybe more then we should…

Sirens at night,
Waiting just like we would,
Temptation and ire,
That burns you like firewood.

Maybe we're monsters,
Maybe we're good,
Maybe we're humans,
Just under a hood.

Yet at the end of the day,
We simply saaayyyy,

"There ain't much about us,
That you need to know.
We simply stay here,
Waiting to go.
All that we do,
Is **** fools like you.
For our songs are temptation,
And you humans love damnation!
And just like a lamb,
To the pitiful slaughter,
Your blood will soon run,
Like red crimson water!"

You strumming your guitar,
While I play my Irish whistle,
A beautiful and strange duet,
Filling the air,
Turning heads here and there,
For now,
What could I have to regret?

Then, another speaks,
Stops the music,
Reality hits,
Then it come creeping back,
The anxiety,
The worry,
Out of nowhere;
RING!

Walking swiftly away,
For some reason,
Glancing back,
Seeing you looking back at me,
Then I turn, run a bit,
Hide in the crowd,
Fearing that if I look back,
You'll catch up,
Asking me if it were true;
If I've been thinking about you...

- Jay M
April 12th, 2019