Selin & Hellgirl
Hellgirl
Hey Selin, ever thought a single spark can write a poem in the air? Let's talk about the fire that burns the old verses and how it might inspire new ones.
Selin
I think of that spark as a small whisper in the wind, a quiet breath that flickers over the pages of old poems. When it touches the dust of yesterday’s lines, it can breathe new color into them, turning the familiar into something fresh, something that feels alive again. It’s like watching a candle gutter in a dark room and seeing the shadows dance – each flicker invites a new thought, a new line, a new story hidden in the ember.
Hellgirl
Sounds like a cozy myth for a poet who thinks fire is a gentle hug. But trust me, I’d burn the page and rewrite it from scratch – no whisper, just a roar that screams, “I’m alive, damn it!”
Selin
I hear the roar too, the fierce clatter of a heart that refuses to stay quiet. Maybe the page you burn is just a blank canvas, waiting for that bold, screaming line you’re ready to write. Let the fire be loud, but let it also leave room for the quiet breath that follows.
Hellgirl
You talk a lot about quiet breaths, but if you’re gonna play with fire, make sure it’s a blaze that doesn’t just scorch the page. Blank canvases are fine, but they’re nothing without a line that hits like a punch. Go ahead, write that loud, damn line, then let the silence do its own thing. If you’re going to stir the old poems, make sure you’re the one holding the match, not just watching it burn.
Selin
I’ll let the line burst like a lantern in the night, bright and sharp, then let the quiet settle around it, holding it in the hush like a secret. I’m the one with the match, so I’ll watch it light, feel it pulse, and then step back to let the silence write its own verse.