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These are the ashes of what's left of our fire...
What to expect when electricity meets water;
Though our love has sundered, bittersweet polaroids and toffee greeting cards endure.
... When a house is lost to flames, one surviving photo is worth a thousand carats
And so I go with these memories that come ripe again to soul and bone,
A bounteous pension for the things we lost in the fire...
A bed of roses and a chest of knives. 
When a bough rustles a ballad but no one to sing to
She soon sheds like tears;
There is nothing anywhere but nakedness and wretch and sure days of barrenness...
No elastic smile, only guttering cheeks.


16/02/18
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