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Dec 2016
"The wind is blowing the skirt of an Autumn tree; I flirt with destruction."

Wildfire is afoot,
my lungs fill with the soot
from all the burning bridges;
a slow suffocation, each breath
slipping into the decay.
Things I lost in the fire
permeate the stench of regret.
The unforgotten coats the skin of air
in blankets of smoke and mirrors.
Reflections. | .snoitcelfeR

I Breathe in
deep breaths of memories,
awake in me,
the only remenants
of our love.
It is hard to exhale.
A stubborn heart,
I never know when to let go.
Selfishly I hold on
even amidst the breaking;
the fire consuming everything.
I find myself content
with these 3rd degree burns.
The scars are reminders
that I did more than dream you
but you were really here.

The deliberate suicide
accelerated by my will
to hold onto something
that is already gone;
without you I die a little more inside.
Fade into the nothingness,
a canyon filled with the echo
of the wolf's cry; brokenness.

**** this burden of love,
a torch that burns me alive.
Deadly poison
coursing through my veins,
killing me softly.
I am the chainsmoker.
My lungs are charchoal,
a sacrafice on the alter.
I don't know how to quit you,
give back the feelings you gave me;
the all of you that I have breathed in.

Addiction is madness.
I can feel the unraveling of mind
turning me into a cigarette bud,
into a tray of ashes.
Lost in the fray.
There is a mirror
in the ceiling above me,
haunting reflection
of the things that use to be.
Of the things Ive lost
you are what I desire most
to find again.

I miss belonging
to your lips, your hands, your heart
but I mean nothing to you now.
I am a promise you once made
broken and unkept.
Abandoned.
A heart missing a piece.
A mind without peace.
Lonely like the stretch of sky
after the sun departs
before the moon arrives;
the bareroot of empitness.

I am the star
farthest from the moon,
devastated by an ending come too soon,
but soon to be reborn
the morning star;
one way or another
Ill find my way out of this dark,
the light always does....
Just written reflections on a past heartache.
Nadine Sharise Hayes
Written by
Nadine Sharise Hayes  North Carolina
(North Carolina)   
  655
     Mary Winslow, Pradip Chattopadhyay and L B
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