Tess Norton Poet Rhyme

What Was

I think that we were hot once
We felt the sparks, you were my flame
And your leather couch goes “squish and “crunch”
Now I can barely conjure your name

He caresses, she undresses
Slipping down to almost nothing
Indulging in our excesses (but as usual I digress)
I might’ve thought it then, 
But not quite sure you’d call it loving

Some empty, lonely spaces never can be filled
And be sure to never cram them with the wrong stuff
All things must find their end, no matter how they thrill
I’d grown tired of it all and had enough 

When the blush is off the bloom
And the petals fade and fall
No sense in trying to exhume
What was never anything at all

I think that we were hot once
But the pyre reduced to embers
And your leather couch goes “squish” and “crunch”
But that’s all I can remember

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