burn until you must move on

Your eyes were sad;

each side holding the weight

of nights without sleep

tortured by the day’s burn

and a pressured chest

bottled tight with lost dreams

and frozen love

poised in gun stances

amidst the dark

dark losing light;

you are no longer bright

to the senseless blink

of free fireflies

reflected in the glass

still jet black pond

alongside Venus and Jupiter

two small dots

in a field of dreams

and years washed away,

but that’s only how you see it now

unknown to yourself

except in frames of the past

where you were fire:

but you only think

of the canvas that

you burned

for the sake of vivid emotion,

although

the bleak leftovers lay in the sand

you still have red hot embers

in the bed of gray ashes in the frame

you still believe in dinosaurs

and fantasies, future,

and now that your picture is ash

the rest of the landscape

is all yours

photo8

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