deepundergroundpoetry.com
Fire
The memory of you
Is like poking at fire with a stick.
The warmth seeps through me
Like whiskey humming through my soul.
The embers dance in my eyes
Like the spark you left behind,
But it's dying.
I remember when I said
I'd walk through hell
Just to hold your hand,
But now this heart of mine
Flickers like a lonely coal
At the bottom of the pile
Growing cold.
Is like poking at fire with a stick.
The warmth seeps through me
Like whiskey humming through my soul.
The embers dance in my eyes
Like the spark you left behind,
But it's dying.
I remember when I said
I'd walk through hell
Just to hold your hand,
But now this heart of mine
Flickers like a lonely coal
At the bottom of the pile
Growing cold.
Published 2nd Mar 2023
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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2nd Mar 2023 10:05am
2nd Mar 2023 1:08pm
3rd Mar 2023 1:06am
