The Burn
My bed is winter
nothing burns
like the cold
This poem is for her
the paper burns
words fly free
smell of heartbreak
fills the air
Tonight I burn
I shake
out of the moonlight
into the shadows
I burn to the ground
tear me into little pieces
cut me into
little parts
just love me
I would rather
be blind
deaf
mute
than to have a heart
that could not love her
I love her
because of
who I am
when I am with her...
Copyright © Ken Carroll | Year Posted 2013
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