If I were a book, you would be the terrorizing fire burning all my pages out of spite.
because -your brutal flames negate the beauty of light.
If I were a book, you would be the flames feeding off of the words you don’t know
devouring everything that comes along that may challenge your inferno
because you have refused the brightness which was bestowed upon you
light that’s meant to allow people to see; you manipulated the embers that flew
you are your own pyre, in your damn empire; alone
you can burn my pages, but you’ll never burn my bones
the conspiracy of my serenity
feigned identifying my identity
high off of sobriety
consistently negating calamity
yet aware that playing the game is the only remedy
overcast clouds that are hiding how I miss us
our storms have caused me to mistrust
and forced me to leave our love out to rust
Lost under my own sheets… trying to muster the strength to mend my broken mind… I am neither afraid nor fearsome of the unknown. I am simply just laying, listening, and trying to feel something.
held onto fire inadvertently so
mesmerized; inhaling all of the smoke
listened to every syllable you spoke
Embers flew while we watched the sun awoke
there once was a song that ran so deep with my soul that the owls feared singing at night I for one enjoyed the restlessness of the moonlight
Even the snow melts
After fear and ice take hold
Show strength once again
Don't fear what you felt
As your heart begins to fold
Show hope once again
The hands we were dealt
Embracing the winter cold
Pray for love. Amen.