‪why am i always attracted
to flames?
to ember?
to things
that are already burnt;
charred to the ground?

why is it every time
there’s a faint smell of smoke
li‬ngering in a room
i try to find its source?

why is it that my lungs,
that are already damaged
from being suffocated,
begs to be filled
with smoke
again?

scars,
pulsing to the sound of embers
crackle and pop.

i shouldn’t be playing with fire.
i should’ve learned my lesson.
i should’ve stopped when i can
already feel my hands burning.

but why am i still trailing?

I see the clouds above me,
They're floating in the sky,
I wonder what they see,
And wonder why they cry.

I listen to the fire,
While sitting in its glow,
Not a thing does it require,
But wood for it to grow.

Gently does the breeze,
Whisper to my skin,
I wander if the trees,
Mind about the wind.

I will not shut my eyes,
Wont miss one part of this,
The sun is giving the skies,
A loving goodnight kiss.

dancing on a moonless night
the air is cold
stars the only light
a lacy white dress
flowing with her movement
is she porcelain
or is she human
a music box plays
while she slowly spins
her limbs held together
with staples and pins
sweet tinklings and chimes
while she closes her eyes
trapped in a hell
a soft gentle demise
winding down
the music slows
to staccato notes
there is no flow
just jerky beats
eventually

silence

my hands reach for the key

I am the creation
of many unsung songs
each tune lived and died
for a moment on my lips
pulling the lyrics inside
so the birds in my rib cage
have something
a brief piece of freedom
as I rest my hands
on my self-made cage