Inks Destruction of a Promise

As I sit at the stroke of 3 In this lucubrator And watch the flame of the candle flicker, I sort through scraps of your heart On old crumpled paper, And listen to the hebetude Of your written words Promising me Everything. I feel a tear drop From the corner of my eye And land on the paper Smearing the useless promises of the ink. I take a hand full of the promises And hold it just above the flame, Boutefeu upon it. I see the ink bubble And watch as the paper turn darker Till finally Its nothing but ash. As I burn the pile full of Promises and dreams, Written down for all to see…, I also burn you And everything you were to me. For you were all a lie! Lucubrator- a person who studies by night, or by candlelight. Hebetude- dullness; bluntness; obtuseness; want of discernment. Boutefeu- is a French word, and literally means “to set fire.”