Poetry

Flames.

flames

I have it all planned out

what I should publish

Been thinking about it throughout

Doubting it, I roll it into the trash

I get cold feet.

 

If it’s great, the flames might tell

they’ll flicker away quick

selfishly wanting to conceal

the secrets,

 

flames dancing, taunting

knowing that they die soon

leaving you guessing.

 

If it’s poor,

the flames will be lazy

You’ll to see within its hue

the colour of ink that dashed

across,  and it’s ruse

as it seduces you with details

only to consume them away.

 

 

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4 thoughts on “Flames.”

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