peel me an onion Friday 55

I’m static, frantic,
magnetic, shielding
shards of heart
with recycled refuse
            (just onion tears)
We’re refusing reclusion
collecting letters
upon utterances
unpeeling splices
           (over onion tears)
Our juices rise
like pungent repellant
solely with olfaction
flavors are favored
          (taste onion tears)
He’s spreading splines
ribs of mine
are tearing free
revealing me
          (in onion tears)




sometimes communication is hard.  sometimes assumptions are easier. sometimes solitude is safer.  but always, always, open honest communication is really living.

This is a poem in exactly 55 words.  To visit the host with the most, Mr. Knowitall, look HERE . Post a Flash Fiction in 55 words exactly on Friday and let him know it all!

Turn Turn Turn

-
When I turn a phrase,
it turns me on
to turn you around
if you do a good turn.

It turns me red
to turn inside out,
then have you turn your back
in a turn for the worst.

You turn me off
when you take my turn
and turn what I've said
upside down.

I prefer you listen in turn,
turn your key and unlock,
try turning a corner,
or turn over a rock.

I've one turn today,
don't turn white as a sheet!
I can't turn back the clock,
so I'll turn up the heat.