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Literature Text
You forgot your embers,
fluttering flakes of gray,
in the fireplace when you left me
for the night.
Their cores blazed brightly anew
as the door whispered a draft,
leaving me both rekindled
and cold.
Next time,
leave me your irons.
Bury them deep in the fire’s flesh.
They will glow red at the point,
heat emanating,
innocent,
up the handle
so I might scorch my hands
at my leisure
and warm you when you return
to me.
fluttering flakes of gray,
in the fireplace when you left me
for the night.
Their cores blazed brightly anew
as the door whispered a draft,
leaving me both rekindled
and cold.
Next time,
leave me your irons.
Bury them deep in the fire’s flesh.
They will glow red at the point,
heat emanating,
innocent,
up the handle
so I might scorch my hands
at my leisure
and warm you when you return
to me.
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This is but a second draft, so I'm definitely looking for revision suggestions. I woke up at five this morning and jotted something down, and this is what it became. Truth be told, it was modeled after my feelings toward a favorite actor I "met," which is why the title has nothing to do with love or a mutual relationship.
© 2015 - 2024 The-Dormant-Sprite
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