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eyes on fire
yet i drown in tears that leave my face
soaked and anything but burning.
eyes are a window to the soul,
and that's smoldering as well -
think of this poem as the smoke.
honey, i'm on fire with hatred
to the one i set fire to.
words were matches, stares
from them to i,
from me to me, the true enemy,
was gasoline.
YOU ARE READING
past oblivion.
Poetry"what can i really say?" used to be my words, when i didn't know as much. when i got older, i responded to myself. "everything." now, i realize that i can use my breath to speak on everything in existence, from dust on jupiter to the depths of hell...
