Rose Of Sharon

   Even when I’m not exhaling smoke, smoke rises from my lips. My eyes remain dry and red with the constant harsh winds and the hot smoke moving with them.  It’s late fall and I spin a cigarette between my piano fingers and disregard the temperatures as they conflict around me. The ground and the wind are caked in frost but the heat rises from the ground and smoke is carried on the wind, making my kisser’s lips blue. My teeth chatter Morse code; dots and dashes without punctuation saying god help us, god help us, god help us, as I watch the house burn to the ground.
    It started with the drapes. Then the carpets, couches, beds, teddy bears, hallways, rooms, stairs, floors. The flames ripped through the kitchen into the living room, destroying any desperation I had left behind. The whole building was up in minutes, and by the time I had lit my cigarette, the black plumes had started to kiss the sky. So much for blue lips. So much for blue sky. The flames chased one another onto the porch where they devoured the swing before descending the newly built stairs and overtaking the Rose of Sharon in the front yard. The dry grass burned like hair and my heart beat faster with every breath.
    The summer ended and the fire began. From holding hands to crying wolf; the smoke, this time from the cigarette, slithers down my throat. Once the flowers bloomed everything else seemed to die, and it wasn’t even fall yet. So by the time fall came, everything was ready to come back to life. By winter they all came booming back with the sound of a starting gun, and I ran on queue.
And here I am. Watching the new furniture and the old shutters catch like spider web. And the freezing cold weather still won’t agree with the flames licking my lips.
    The scream of the sirens means it’s time to go. I take one last drag off my cigarette and I exhale. The rising smoke turns the clouds gray and it almost looks like rain. And wouldn’t that be ironic.

Reviews

[Cortney Lynn]

ha. i forgot about this.

[Raven Held]

Oh, and the imagery was original, which always makes a piece of writing brilliant. Good imagery is hard work.

[Raven Held]

Disturbing, but hauntingly good. What can I say, Ben. You can write.

[Moki]

I miss new england.
And its weather.
And its emotional connotation.

[Nessa]

This is definately one of my favorite pieces from you.
"Morse code; dots and dashes without punctuation saying god help us, god help us, god help us"
You're an incredible writer, that's all I can say.

[Cortney Lynn]

this is even more ironic now.

[ashley]

"between my piano fingers" aka "your fingers built for the piano" (you know, like, you are the daybreak?)
i see what you did there, ben

[Gabrielle]

ashley. tis the name of a killswitch song.

this is fantastic, ben.

and not at ALL what i expected it to be.

[Ashley]

isn't that the name of a killswitch song?
only spelled differently?

either way, i agree with cortney completely.
very well written(:

[Cortney Lynn]

this gave me the chills. like really, oh my goodness. i can picture this too well.