The fire fades

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It began in the night,

With a cold, nauseous sweat,

And with my legs trembling,

The way they did solely in my times

Of bedridden sickness.

It began with a click, a sudden spark,

Much like the creation of the universe,

A recollection of burning memories,

Of golden times,

So sweet and gone.


I wish to scream, to howl in a manner

Never seen before, and in doing so

To break my lungs into oblivion.


It began with you, coming back in my life,

It began with you setting me on fire,

Forcing my frigidity, sickening my innards,

As if you'd be a recurring disease.


But the fire fades and its ashes choke me,

And the wind blows them away towards nothingness.

Your light, in all its elegant eloquence, burns my skin,

Melts me away as if I'd be nothing more than a waxen candle.

And I say it's not ok of you to burn my skin the way you do

And behave like it's nothing and I'm nothing.


I say it's not ok for you to come back in my life

And mess things up the way you did.

I say it's not ok for you to render my heart a mess,

A whole, untampered storm, wherein ships

Lose track of themselves. You ripped my heart out

Night by night, each of these years, left and came back now

In sole boredom, and I say it's not ok for you to come in my life

In moments of pathological boredom,

For I know the faltering and meaninglessness

That promises of yore hold. For I know

Their mere fickleness, 

And the flimsy words we both use

In their defense.

But what could have caused this? What could have broken

That which looked unbreakable

Rested inbetween us?


The semblance of perfection, my creed,

Bathed in lead,

Confined within the reaches of our procreation,

Ironically, birthed with malignant trepidation

It's dead.

The harsh realism that's ahead

Eats away at me.

And you do nothing more than watch passively.


I say it's not ok for you to hold my heart in your pocket

All these years, and come back in my life now,

Like a recurring disease, simply because

You experience your pathological moments

Of boredom, and I say it's not ok that, 

In doing so, you behave as if it would be ok

And it would do nothing

And I would be nothing.


Though I sail back towards you, towards my very genesis

Towards the womb of undying light,

For I am not nothing, I was part of this creation,

And I will live to tell the tale.

You are nothing, you mean nothing,

I will turn back to strangle you

In your own pit of gall and gutter.

I will dig your trenches,

Lie in them awoken.


Now the sky is red and the trees are black,

And nothing separates us, once more.

This grave was made for one, but you fit well.

We are once again one, we are whole,

And the fire has faded.





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