His eyes met mine as the embers faded.
And I knew the fire had gone out but I could not stop my lips from
blowing on the coals, could not help wishing he didn't look so jaded.
Finally, my lips stopped their blowing and instead curled in anger.
My love, my laughter, given easily, he wasted.
-
rm
YOU ARE READING
semi-permanent
Poetrya collection of poetry "Let this evening be the next piece of fabric you/stitch onto the dwindling threads of time" (from "it's late") {RM 2022-2023}
