I live my life through the words I write
Can I offer enough forgiveness
to my past self, to you,
to erase the pain, the confusion, the betrayal,
burning from your eyes
into mine, that night?
Your eyes burn into mine, still,
whenever I think of you.
That fire is the first thing I see,
still feel.
If I’m meant to feel that fire forever,
a hard punishment it would be.
Hard, and justified.
Lightning and thunder
alternate
sight and sound,
sight and sound,
shocking me into submissive fear
until I shatter,
and collapse.
Thunder rumbles through the ground
rolling me like water in a boiling pot.
Lightning strikes
to set me on fire,
then the thunder roars again.
Shaking
on fire.
Quiet out there,
matched by the quiet in here.
Cold and snow pushing life to slow down
so we do,
inside, staying close and warm
and quiet.
She is mourning,
her body changing from fire to snow,
wind to desert to floods.
Be gentle now.
Gentle and quiet.
From the smouldering coals and ashes
deep down within me,
you found the one ember still alight
and reignited the flame.
The flickering lights in my eyes,
heat building on my skin,
sparks jumping through my heart,
you brought it all back.
Perhaps we can leave it at that,
perhaps that’s enough.
Perhaps that’s what you were meant to do
for me,
and nothing more.
Drown the sorrows,
the struggles, the insecurities
in the liquid
that warms your mouth and throat
and leaves a fire
in its wake
to validate your acknowledgment.
How many times have you
tasted this burn,
felt it smoldering for hours and hours?
Tell me,
does it make things better
or worse?
Light me up,
now,
like the flame instantly flaring
upon the wooden match
scratched and dragged across
the igniter.
Make friction.
Scratch me, drag me and
light me up.
I want to burn.
Watch me burn.
Dawning Words 