I never asked how you felt about poetry.
I never realized how much of others I saw in you

That was until sometime this afternoon..

Evening has grown old

The nights have grown cold

And all the linens smell like cigarettes

Tingle’s kicking in and I’m feeling it

Half past dead

We lie in bed

I wish I could untangle you from them

I see past the coal and into the gem

Sparkling, cold and distant she is

Passionate, vibrant and colourful she lives

Breathing life into the dead of night

Seizing minds

Closing blinds

And wrapping up others in warmth
I am plagued by foolish and childish thoughts

Of all the lessons love taught

Restraint was one held back

without it the spines snapped

And the pages turned to ash

The index was the answer
we’ll learn the things we have yet to master

The catalog far too fat

Life far too matte

Planes of colour on a black and white page

Emotion is our tomb and sadly life is our grave…


4 thoughts on “Ashes

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