It's causing me discomfort that you know now
the comfort I find in you.
Comfort. Confrontation.
The fire I fear is the fire in my heart.
The burning disc in the sky promises that the dead flesh will peel away
and a new beauty will be revealed, that beauty will be to forget.
I want my words not to mean a thing to you.
I want to say them all in a rush, I want to take the deadweight from my chest.
But memory is a burden and you won't forget I spoke them.
I wish I had never spoken.
YOU ARE READING
Unrelated... A series of weird and wonderful poems
PoetryA collection of the unusual and the very usual poetry, A collection, a series, A set which grows over time © P.H.Dyer, 2011-2012 All rights reserved Note: I have had issues with people using my work without authorisation, and so I've had to put thi...
