I like using fire as an analogy, a metaphor, the punchline for most of my poetry

I often describe the heart as if it were a hearth, while its beats were the heat it radiated

I see it—sometimes a roaring flame, often times a steady bonfire, other times a dying match.

It could scorch you if you aren't careful, but it also provides you warmth and light. A sort of clarity. Comfort.

It allows some of the toughest things on Earth to become malleable and mold itself into something new

It turns the bitter into sweet, the biting cold to teeth-sinking warm, the tasteless into delicious

It allows the spirit to soar with columns of smoke to the heavens while the body becomes fertilizer for daisies

It takes beauty, and burns it black and ash to the point of no recognition

Fire is so precious, and dangerous, and essential, and beautiful, and ugly—just like this hearth of a heart

Tended and regulated well, it's the greatest discovery of mankind

Allowed to burn out quick, or spread out of control, then it's the accident that burned down London in 1666

I believe I should end this by saying: find someone who will tend to your hearth as if it were their last dying light, instead of a person who would simply roast marshmallows with forest fires

When you cant find yourself anymore
you write poem and be lost with your own words
words you dont even know would come out
poem you dont even know how would end

Being lost with your own words
you feel some sort of happiness
knowing the poem is yours
and no one can take it away from you

Can we start all over again?
When the sun shines brighter
And the moon lights wider
Then the stars twinkles lighter

Can we forget and forgive?
When the wind blows away the sin
And the rain washes away the pain
Then the snow freezes the time

Can we continue to live?
When there are warm weekends
And cold wednesday nights
Then breezy afternoon breaks

Can we, please?
When the storm stops lightning
And the thunder sings peacefully
Then the sky goes crystal clear

I can't write a poem
because of you

my eyes are blurry
i can't start to think
again, sweetie
my life's about to sink

my thoughts are running wild
i wonder why you lie
again, sweetie
my love's about to die

Sometimes I ask myself
"Why am I still here?"
but then you take my hand,
I can almost almost taste your smile,
so sweet, my dear.

Everything I hold dear
is in my hand,
in my hair,
the smell of you lingers
and I have to sigh through the tears.

You have stolen my heart,
enraptured my soul,
and devoured me whole.
My mind is tethered yet torn apart
when I think of you and what you've done to me.

Just you wait, my love.
Not much longer, someday,
when I have taken your oath and sealed it
I'll steal you away swiftly.
Swiftly we'll fly across oceans, my dove.

Take my hand,
hold my head to your heart
and remind me that it's mine.
Each beat whispers as soft as desert sand
*"I love you and we'll never be apart."

The fear of letting go
I know it's fear of the unknown
Seeing if I walk alone
Although you gone
In steps I move
I'm afraid I have to choose
Be be alone again I dread
No one there to hold the thread
So afraid I'll fall again
I'm falling now and it not yet dead
Added to the the endless sleep
Scared of what may lie beneath
I know it's fear that holds me back
There's no way out
And no way back
What happens when the curtain falls
No one to find no one to call
I'm so afraid to be alone
I'm so afraid to be alone
X

Near morning
by the sea
where I tangle
with the shadows
like a cage of sad tigers
by a grave I find a rope ladder
left by a thief
as the tide steals my eyes,
prisoners of time
without a hammer
trying to drive a stake
in the ground
and this is my crime
living and dreaming.