Ink to Ashes

When my ink burns
hottest, thoughts of us scream
old wants out of my pen,

and

the me who loved you starts to ache
for the fiery words we howled together.
But I know you are a scorched page,

I know

happiness turns to ashes
when self-love is slaughtered
so that lust can feed.

I know

your blood has gone cold
and your lips sing poison.

 

for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.

49 thoughts on “Ink to Ashes

  1. I can feel the pain and anguish in your words especially; “when self-love is slaughtered so that lust can feed.” Often we are faced with a heart ripping dilemma when love does not receive love in return.

  2. I think it’s hard to be loved if without some self-love…

    Love the structure and the images you paint…
    I think we need to warm up the ink sometimes, we need to burn the words to keep it warm.

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