the fire is dying
inside a chamber of stone
and
the smoke creeps up and
crawls through the cracks
weaving and clinging
to the cache of my
frontal lobe where
you
still
exist
the same place where
your impulse and
indecision
burned us
and it’s funny now
how
the presence of
smoke and ashes
makes it all clear

(sneak peek of a piece I will be including in my new collection…coming soon!)

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