I'm often loud in places where I should be quiet; I'm often quiet in places where I should be loud

[balsamandash]

I have spent more than six hours listening to slam poetry somehow? Relistening to the same things over and over for the most part, and I have no idea how this happened but I'm a little in love with some of them? (Especially this; I am listening to a lot of this guy's stuff but hoooly crap that one.)

I kind of want to give prompts now. Not necessarily all poetry prompts, but just... prompting people? This is putting me in the mood to prompt people.

... Uh, I guess that could turn this into an offer if anyone wants to take me up on it; comment here and I'll drop you prompts? Mostly quotes/lyrics, most likely?

I just like prompting people, okay, it pleases me.

Comments

[silveradept]

He it is, a little later than I was hoping to give it to you. Let me know what you think.
----

He listens to the same things, new iterations of the same game. "I promise that I will love you as if it’s the only thing that I’ve ever done correctly."

"I love you in a language that I don’t fully understand, because tonight, this world is broken and we’re the only thing that’s going to keep it together."

Things don't change. People come here, not to change, but to talk. A wishlist of sorrows. Grief, not guilt. So he listens.

She wonders why he doesn't do more. He just stands behind the bar, pouring the drinks and listening. She does things to push people in the right direction, and then she melts away, the invisible waitress. She stops at a table, delivering glasses of water and gives her advice.

"The bruises fall off eventually."

And then she leaves, barely hearing the other person at the table.

"Gina, is there something you're not telling me?"

We do not all have access to the most helpful words, she says to herself as she moves on to the next person. But she knows in her heart that it's better to do something. Because she doesn't want it to happen to anyone else. Think about the thing (or person) that is most important to you. Now get through the day without it. She knows that feeling too well. There’s so much decay in these bones.

He knows how much she hurts. He knows that she's going to keep trying until she breaks. It’s okay to break. In every pile of rubble, there is something worth salvaging.

She knows how much he's been hurt. She knows he thinks she's foolish. But as the music comes on in the lull of the conversations, she knows she's going to keep dancing this dance. We are all fools whether we dance or not. We may as well dance.

This story sounds fantastical, but I see it every night, watching to see whether she wins or he does. This is no metaphor. I know her. And though I can't help her, I always hope she wins. Because I have to believe that trying is better than just listening. And because I know, at the end of the night, the two of them will walk out, hand in hand, and whatever differences they had inside, she'll try to make them better, and he'll listen. And slowly, between them, the World will become a better place.

[balsamandash]

And my response ended up being later still because I thought I HAD respondd to this, I'm sorry, I just found I hadn't clearing out my DW inbox. ANYWAY, I really like it, though. :) There's something very sweet and understated there, and I like the mood of the piece.