Not some unwed poem(Original Poetry)
(with no title)
.
This letter
is a tight knit
family of embers
in my hand
.
Reading it, like
looking into the sun
sears holes
through retinas
.
It may be crisp paper
but I'm the one
being torn to bits
called by gravity
paused, a jumble
.
Coals scorch as
each scrawled mark
digs through skin
when refolded and
moons start
to pull
my mind to and fro
a cycle that'll
never gloam upon
a decision.
.
JAY
Thanks for reading! Words are mine. Pictures from Pixabay. Logo gifted by Papa Pepper
I always liked fire. It warms, it is making the dark bright and it makes things disappear.
yes. there's just something so comforting and magical about a good fire... i think it calls to things inside us and always will. :)