Former Fires

Gouging out the rubble in our ruined eyes, Tearing at the framework of these unkempt lives. Numb with anticipation of some great reprieve, A tiny prayer made that I’ll one day be allowed to leave. Deserted here in this wretched place, I may call for you- But what remains of decency knows that you should turn your head. When you hear my cries and pleas to you for some respite, Just walk away my darling, don’t come into this place for me. Seeming to be a dream of beauty and of peace, No one knowing of the damage carried quietly beneath. Don’t wrap your arms around these shoulders, Or become too fond of the scent at my neck. Don’t entangle your fingers in my long dark hair- Nor become attached to the soft warmth of my flesh. It all unravels when one is still sweeping up the ashes of many former fires. It all becomes a battleground when pulling splinters from these disasters.