Cracked Obsidian (life and death of a volcano)

What started as wild molten nights of passion quickly cooled to black flows of cracked obsidian

It began with sweet lyrics
Staying up far too late
Everything she wanted to hear
Flowing forth from his saccharine lips
(The same ones she loved to suck and bite)

She listened intently to his voice
Attentive, trusting
Longing to believe, then believing in earnest
Eruptions of fiery lust and desires

Internal flames backlit his eyes
She laughed dancing about the room
Down the hall and through the night
His lids lowered, following her every move
Before he found himself pulled within the eddies swirling around her swaying hips
He resisted her not

Until the day he did

Cooling moments of lust-turned-obligation
Looking over her shoulder
Even as she held his face between her palms
Gripping his phone tightly, tightly
Never allowing it to stray too far
Pulling away if she kissed him in public
Holding her hand instead of her thigh

Conversations faltering, gasping, died
Unmoved by her tears
Forgetting simple things
Once-comforting arms become a criss-crossed barrier
Thank you’s and flowers and accidentally brushed touches long cooled, desiccated

He appeared to her as if through a tunnel
Across a dim chasm
His voice tinny and distorted
She beckoned to him as his eyelids shuttered
Attempted to coax his attentions
With painted lips and spike heels, nary another stitch
A chime, he lifted his phone, then pecking her on the cheek, walked out the room

Her final thrust: she stood before the tube
Blocking a view of one thick-necked man from body slamming another by her curvy hips and plaited hair and scented skin

Questions flowed from her eyes
Mascara streaks early in the night
He leaned sideways to peer beyond her once-worshipped delectable body
Missing the best move of the fight, according to the script
Throwing his hands in the air, gesturing wildly

She slipped away, apparently unseen
Door quietly clicking shut, he never heard her
Never noticed until his beer was empty
And she hadn’t brought him a fresh one

It was in that moment his phone chirped yet all he observed was how cold the house had gotten and that her keys were replaced by a single slip of paper signed with her familiar slanted hand:

tara caribou | ©2018-2021 (revised)

Read more like this in my poetry book, Fallen Star Rising.

23 Comments on “Cracked Obsidian (life and death of a volcano)

  1. Really great writing, tara. I remember reading this one in your book and really liking it. Also, I’ve been absent from wordpress for awhile, and I feel like you revamped your site? Regardless, everything looks great! (My website is jealous ha.)

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you. I actually revised this one a little when I reposted. I can’t remember when I redid my site… I want to say it was the beginning of this year but I’m not great with knowing the passage of time 🤷🏼‍♀️… I really like the changes, it seemed to fit where I’m at presently in my journey better than the other version. Thanks for checking it out!

      Liked by 1 person

      • Yeah… time is strange. I also do most of my reading in the wp reader, so that could contribute to me not remembering what your actual site looks like. But again, it looks really great! And your poem is excellent also!


      • Haha thanks, tara, I appreciate that. Yes, it is a work in progress. You know how slowly I write! My calendar tells me that I originally had planned to have it posted by now, but I am still working on it. Thanks for all your support!

        Liked by 1 person

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