Call me,
Even if it's 3 a.m.,
And I am dead to the world.
Every fire pit eventually has to go out,
But even those cold ash embers
Are kept warm by the lively ones
That have yet to go out.

If you get lost
And the surrounding starts
To look unfamiliar,
Call me.
Even moths need sleep.
I promise you're not disturbing
Me.

We'll find another pit to hang around.
If you get lost and don't feel
That warmth around you.
Don't you go getting lost on me,
I'll be that lonely stubborn ember
That refuses to go out
One that keeps you warm
Until you feel safe,
And we both fall asleep
There isn't a dark too deep
That we can't explore
Even if it's 4 a.m.

Looking onward,
Sun sets the sky gold
Golden highlights on ember stones
As iron turns to molten lava blue
As the sun settles on the rise
Rose colored stones darken
Green brush lit a fire in the changing leaves
Soon it sets dark
Set the embers aside
To turn to fire again in the morn
Sleep now child
It will all be answered

What path in this warren of life,
made you go from affection
in everything you said,
to disdain in your nostalgic eyes?

The promises we uttered,
expecting to keep them for eternity and after;
now dissolved in the acid of your treachery.

Was it just me who had that intention
of never leaving until the end of time
or, were they merely just a game of your deceit?

The mirage of your trust and insistence
of partly carrying my burdens,
as I did for you,
now reduced to ashes
from which an ember lowly emits in its wake.

The very envisage of us being,
that would hush me too a deep repose
on sleepless nights;
now keeping me up until dawn.

Perhaps,
it was my fault
for expecting so much.

For assuming you were
the one friend I'd needed,
in this deep, hollow concept of living.

I suppose what I'm better off with
is a barren version
of the shallow expectations concerning
human existence.

Often times, I reckon,
what would be of us
if we hadn't strayed apart to divergent voyages.

It is as though,
due to the circumstances uncalled
or our fraying nexus of connection,
we just weren't meant to be.

Charcoal hands
To hold my ignited love,
The only reciprocity
Is to be maimed & scarred
With flames beyond the fire's control.
Gasoline loves a match-
Bright & hot, destructive, fast.
Burns out to within, and then
It's all exhausted;
Embers smolder to ash.

are you listening?

can you hear me?

can you hear,
can you see
what's going on
around us?

Do you hear the sirens
that are going off
in every direction?

Everyone is leaving,
Everyone except you.

For you,
the sirens
fall on deaf ears

and you stay,
right where you are
watching the disaster unfold, in awe

The embers begin to flick and flare out
travelling down this stretch of road

and here you are, without a care
Blissfully unaware, the fire
is already taking hold in this town.

can you hear me? are you listening now?

You feel a tug of the arm,
Signaling it's time to go.

your reluctance is telling
But you know you can't stay.

You know that
you have to go.

Memories last forever.

But for you,
You know
the hardest part

Is starting over.

Our fires clash, the sources worlds apart.
My mind is still, my heart beats fleeting.
And I ask myself why, or how strangers of two ends up finding themselves reaping
for the air the other breathes, and the other one’s heart.

But soon our worlds meet, and I feel myself clashing.
I think of you as bright as the embers that burn hot like the sun,
or how it feels to have your first taste of ***;
A slow-burn that inks the back of your throat, that leaves you asking for more, as the mind begins cracking.

We went out for coffee —
Funny enough, we both liked it plain.
We talked about our lives, and soon, I thought us insane.
For we laughed all day, until the sun went away.
“Until another day,” You say.
But we were inpatient, it had barely been 3 days
Before you asked me out for coffee in another café.


No longer did it take for me to be your captive,
And If you ask me to love,
I say, “I will.”
For I’ll give you all my love, my soul, my heart.
Only if you ask, my dear.

The dark comes in close
Wrapping me tight tonight,
And I search for someone
To save me.

Helpless, alone,
Just embers left
To guide me
From the candle fuse,
And the darkness closes in around me.

Begging, pleading,
I strain to be let away,
But its grip is tight
As an anaconda,
Tracing its fangs to my neck
From my shoulder blades.

Within an inch of foresight,
I can feel my heartbeat waning,
And hear teardrops
Pierce the night silence
While the city sleeps;
I ask once more for someone
To give my feet placement,

But one cannot hold another’s heart
Whilst forsaking their own,
And thus, one cannot give another their heart
If giving is expectant
That to whom it’s given,
Will put back together,

For my mistake,
Was hoping for someone else,
When I, so many times,
Could have freed myself,
If only I put myself back together,

But I’ve swept the shattered pile
And sewn the tattered pieces,
Slowly feeling more encouraged
With every change in season

With now, a reason,
And even a desire,
To press on.