Our love has
become
wet wood
all sizzle without fire
smoke without heat
A cold day's house
without
warmth

Another round of paper
Quick flames and
sparks
Heading no where
except to
silent
dead
ashes

The one last sizzle
of
wet wood.

Silence.
Only the sound of waves.
The water is brown. Not blue.
Full of mud.
The wind whips my face.
Filled with foam.
It is no longer cold.
I'm frozen in the wind.

Silence.
Only the sound of waves.
I am happy here.
I am at home here.
Near the sea.

Silence.
Only the sound of waves.
There is no better place for me.

Silence.
Only the sound of waves.
Home.