2011-22
Where there is smoke, there should bethe fierce heat of blue-white flame, but
between you and me, there is only
smoking embers, smoldering under
thick ashes, and regret.
Two lovers should spark like flint and
iron, arc across each other's skin like
flashes of summer lightening. But we are
merely gray wisps of thinning smoke. Yesterday,
a friend said 'I'll pray for you."
I said, "No.
Just send matches."
Poetry by Minhocao
Read 488 times
Written on 2011-07-17 at 17:36
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