cinders.
the cinders glare at me
they want to be free
from the errors
i'm about to indulge in
and preen
of
how the cinders could not
stop the heart- it did rot;
after all, love
is watery,
it can never command my sobriety


ashes.
the cinders long to
turn into ashes before i'm through
the mess
i am to find myself in
and preen
of
how i found substitute,
for ashes did not refute
that love
is slippery-
it will slip, eventually