The Night the Room Started Burning

by Miro MM

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Soarin, Romance, Sex, Braeburn
Length: 1775

Soarin and Braeburn, it was them all alone in the quiet still, when the room started burning.

It was darker then it should be, it was me and you, on the night that the room started burning.

Published 2024-12-30 12:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2024-12-30 12:40:01 UTC

The Night the Room Started Burning

It was darker then it should be, it was me and you like we always had been, on the night that the room started burning.

It was dim and I could see where through the air, little fires showed their tiny forms.

The night the room started burning.

Heat grew thick, smoke steamed inside.

Your body turning, I didn't know how hearts burn.

When you turn in your sleep

Will you roll across the path?

When you turn in your sleep

Will you roll?

When you turn in your sleep

Will you roll across the path?

When you turn in your sleep

Will you roll?

The night the room started burning.

He’s spooning me I feel it brushing against my legs. A yellow tender.

Ooh, wauu, wauu, wauu

Come morning, sample on my face

A thread, a thong

Ooh, wauu, wauu, wauu

It’s covered with a flimsy thin layer, slug along, slug along, small salty bits.

A mighty shaft.

The night the room started burning.

A stroke to sleep soundly, we have a roll in the voltage.

An afterburning. Smoke all around, like cigarette packs.

Pregnant eyelids.

The stench of that stallion is so thick, a damp musky airborne spray.

And I’ll grease your pole behind me.

I’ll be the agent so you wont have to handle yourself in the dark anymore.

My grostulating door requiring your fresh package.

His intoxicating set of coglioni.

The night the room started burning.

An acrid passing, a nasty sting, burns the nostrils, reeks of sulfur, smoke billowing at low angles from the baseboards.

Flowing outwards into this intoxication.

First we feel.
Then we fall.

The breath is still heavy

The legs long and straight

The upper lip remains short

The teeth still too small

The eyeside is green

The mane long and navy

Still coming through

Still coming through

The night the room started burning.

I am nurturant

Compassionate, caring

My ideal partner

Should be assertive

I have control

Over desires and temptations

Not so much

These vertiginous demands are unbearable.

The night the room started burning.

This is how you disappear out between midnight

Hoof in coronet, those loins, face grins so wide, famous hindlegs of you the hot colt

That hipframe

Sightlines of loads backlit by fires

On the ridges of the riverbank

Sweeping tails shining to begin

Our heads once locked in constellations

A last grain of dust lands in the darkness

On tongues laid bare and turning to chalk

I’m shutting down here

Freezing in the red insomniac

He is glazed in the hooves all around

It is losing its shape, losing its shape

I’m looking for a good cowboy.

When every town was Paris, every sound was music.

The night the room started burning.

Now it begins.

The clock ticking away.

Waiting for the hoofsteps of love to appear and this time to stay.

These needles and pins till the twilight dawn.

Watching all the oranges fry.

It’s over and the big hurt begins.

How I wish, my heart would leave my memories alone.

Why must I redream, why must I relive.

The joys we had known ago.

The night the room started burning.

His thighs are full of tales, of all the nights he has known.

A harvest of stars localized in my living room.

A horny ergot.

Through rust-red rooms where shadows breathe from every board.

Give me those lips, give me those thighs.

Sleeping in each other's hooves

Tumbling in each other's dreams

Was it only yesterday?

I've forgotten anyway

When you kissed my eyes awake one night in peaceful slip

Now, I go aimlessly at night

Always coming back to you

And the shadows of this room

The night the room started burning.

Always coming back to you

Always coming back to you

Always coming back to you

Always coming back to you

Always coming back

Always coming back

I will be swarming at his groin.

That leaning tower of Pisa.

Plucking my feathers one at a time.

You were a chance seedling.

And is all about my love

My love for you

And this, this love does not love

Which makes it all so much worse

The night the room started burning.

I do not even listen to it. I do not even acknowledge it.

I lived I laughed I loved I left.

The night the room started burning.

This house burns down, like it’s made of leaves.

Words beneath my pillowed head

I am staring at the ceiling again

Because I want to

I am a cage, in search of a bird. I found you.

I stare into the chasm in my room.

The night the room started burning.

An empty room in an empty space, like that final empty look he gave me.

The night the room started burning.

A shadow to the side.

I am free and that is why I am lost.

As I lie here and toss about

So, at a loss without you

And it hasn’t been easy on you.

I know that more than most

The night the room started burning.

A spit and spatter of broken glass from above

Every night before I sleep

Boarded windows and closed screens so easy.

The bricked off chimney and the padlock front door so tightly.

I chew up the blackness putrid tar to get some sleep.

Through a long and sleepless night

I whisper your name

Through a long and sleepless night

As the vitreous gel rubs against my retina, a pulling burning sensation, streaks of lighting cross my vision, I see my eye floaters fizzle and schism into different directions.

Photopsia remains for a time.

From this humorous detachment.

A starburst in the dark.

Drift among my field of vision.

Did our pieces fit? cause I remember I watched them fall away.

Mildewed and smoldering

On the night the room started burning.

There are

A thousand hours in my day

There are

A thousand hours in my day

Life

Has lost its taste

Everything

I once was

Has lost

Felt the germs pinging in the dark.

Another night I gotta pull.

On another silent rumination, that tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion.

I sipped you up like a fly at the wide eyes of a dehydrated corpse.

This nocturne filled with glorious ideas.

His snout wedged between my thighs. You are my dreng.

The righteous shall perish and no colt layeth it to heart.

Raw to his eyes

I have walked away from him, so far away

Down to splintering bone ashes in the fine imprints of the wardrobe.

With that voice of his the desert sea

In his fractures and skies

On the bedroom cabinet

The night the room started burning.

Remembering him is lovelier than the day he went away.

Suffocating eyes and those agonizing fast hellos and agonizing long and last goodbyes given between supposed lovers.

Surrounds around at the night of me in all kind of webs

An earthquake in the sawdust ground, away to the famished sheets we delve and jump in.

A grip at the gaskin.

A slap on the flank.

I once waited until the dark to be warm with you.

Where the fantasies take form together.

When I can feel your nearness in the night so close, so close to mine

When my disappointments would disappear.

When the room started burning.

To die of kisses, ecstasies and charms, through the pavements of poets they will write that I had died in the hooves of ten thousand angels.

All smiling and seductive as sin.

Picking dustbins in the alley.

I can now read all the sadness point blank range.

I am the pursuer in the puddles from afternoon rain.

If I close my eyes hard enough, maybe you’ll happen to come upon me again. In someway.

On the night the room started burning.

I will saran wrap all I can.

These moments to keep

Gone from this wooden palace.

Scribbles on the walls.

My nostrils squeezed through the coupling soot.

4/4 of silence

This ennui is asphyxiating the aroma around me.

And I would bathe with you, in that lovely murk.

That night the room went burning.

A little is all it takes
A little is all it will take 555

I knows this room
I can navigate it in the dark

But I couldn’t turn from the crotch in the darkness.

I’m motionless for seconds at a time.

Nothing clears a room like removing a brain.

I felt icy thermals dervish at the bottom of my hooves.

Upon my branches.

From the lacquered surface of my hardwood floor.

Tickling my fetlocks.

I turn the knob at a grotesque angle and I open the door, and the world is suddenly different.

A swinging door of whatever is behind.

So dingy and gentle down through here.

By an open door

A foyer which is marked with black and white tile on the floor

But I beg you to please not stay and see me turn away from you, to not catch such fearful glances

The light dims

Give me air, give me air I need it to live

Close my mouth and give me the breath

Because how can I bear the ghost of you here?

In the smoke filled scribe, I remember the hooves I pressed through your firey mane to try, to try and to try and hold on

Miles from me at your doorway.

And I

I can't

I can't

Well

I must

I must

I can't

The night that the room began to burn.

love love love love love

Just give me five more minutes and I will be there, do not let go of me.

When I live in a hallway that keeps going, I think fifty seconds and I will be there.

I’ll be there, I promise.

I’m haunted in the hallways in this tiny room.

I’ll be there in absentia.

It doesn’t help I live at the end of a five and a half minute hallway. 555

I’m carried by the bulbs in my five and a half minute hallway.

Smeared by these dusty lungs.

Tumor to the yellow chest.

I don’t hear the electrons squeezing all around, I hear them freezing all around, and I see how I could drop into the darkness.

So

Here’s to a tired leaning life

And here’s to a lousy life

Shriveled up I go.

Shriveled up as it all proceeds into the deepest darkest black.

I’m jettisoning sideways.

I fall down the hallway, through the brown and ochre.

No other place existed.

And it will be

My eternal reminder.

Author's Note