Charred

Burn, burn, burn.

A fall night that lingers like smoke after a fire,

The stinging dehydration eating away at your eyes,

On the coldest day of November.

And you told yourself through flickered breath

That you were not the fire, but a match

Lost to the corners of a frayed box.

Wondering what had struck you to ignite

On a day where frost bit at your fingertips

And frozen leaves cracked under feet.

A flame ablaze when darkness laughed,

That fated friction came to pass

And you held the world’s light condensed.

With your skin charred to fine ash you ask

Who could see the potential in crumbling bones

When they can not stand to stand?

Reviews

[Kelly Scheppers]

Every line courses through the mind of your reader, and with every line, another reads with the articulation of an aspiring writer. You are gifted, Jamie!

[Jamie Wilkinson]

Awh, thank you! I'm so flatted by all of your lovely comments ^_^

[Kelly Scheppers]

My pleasure! ; )

[lonewolf225]

i like the way that you personify, like "when darkness laughed" you have a strong word base i love the poem!! keep writing! :)

[Jamie Wilkinson]

Thank you! ^_^