What if we were poetry in motion

send a line of poetry + a character or ship and I’ll write a short fic inspired by it!

That wild, that loving.

And who knows, maybe I’ll be singing.

Will I always, from now on, be this cold?

I have a lot of edges called Perhaps and almost nothing you can call Certainty.

I knew the tides, I knew the ingredients of the wrack.

My heart says, what you thought you have you do not have. My body says, will this pounding ever stop?

Love still as once you loved, deeply and without patience.

And I say to my fingers, type me a pretty song. And I say to my heart: rave on.

I am thinking of you. I am always thinking of you.

You there, puddled in lamplight at your midnight desk —

Now that I’m free to be myself, who am I?

If you are in the sea I will slide into that smooth blue nest, I will talk fish, I will adore salt.

There is life without love. It is not worth a bent penny, or a scuffed shoe. It is not worth the body of a dead dog nine days unburied.

Surely you can’t imagine patience, and happiness, like that.

And nobody, of course, is kind, or mean, for a simple reason.

Clearly I’m not needed, yet I feel myself turning into something of inexplicable value.

The only thing in the world that is without questions that can’t and probably never will be answered.

Not to speak of the busy heart.

If you are too much like myself, what shall I learn of you, or you of me?

So now why not a little comfort, a little rippling pleasure.

And the heart, if it is still alive, feels something — a yearning for which we have no name.

The briefest of fires.

You are breathing patiently; it is a beautiful sound. It is your life, which is so close to my own that I would not know where to drop the knife of separation.

Every year, everything I have ever learned in my lifetime leads back to this.

Sometimes there are no rules.

Without pause or mercy it flung me to both sides of the beautiful water — to both sides of the knife.

Have I endured loneliness with grace?

From the complications of loving you, I think there is no end or return.

It’s impossible not to remember wild and want it back.

What I want to say is that the past is the past, and the present is what your life is, and you are capable of choosing what that will be.

doctor: I’ve worked with my colleague, Dr. Malpractice, for 15 years now and I have never witnessed the behavior you are describing.

I’m not saying that’s a good thing but it’s not as if AI invented the incentive to have someone else do their thinking and decision making.