I Hate These Burned Lines.

I felt like writing creatively, which I do too little anymore. So this is some automatic writing from this afternoon that I'd like to share. The title is a bit playful but there is a lot of double meaning to be appreciated. Enjoy :]
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We held hands before and every tense was present-- every tense was perfect. A grammatically correct conjunction but it had no plot. The genre was not mystery, it was not history. The subject was poetry and it's verse fell into an ellipsis.

We are constantly told to omit run-on sentences, and yet it is the only way to streamline our thoughts, our feelings. Tell your story without personal pronouns. Define yourself as someone else, as "one." But what if you are "one of two"?

Write out numbers if they're low enough. Make them be something else if there isn't a lot of them. Hide in the paragraph and fill your body with complexity. Strain your mind for someone else's benefit. But still be clear, direct. No run-ons. Every line needs to be a full sentence. That is our sentence.

There is an escape. To ride the rhyme and flee from structure. Free. I am not iambic. I am not predictable. I see beauty in the timing of words that match. Quick! Light it and blaze your speech. Because it burns from both ends. My heart and yours. Our hands are a match and it's striking. The spark strikes and words form days from now, years before.  Burn away complexity, what is still in store?