I have been writing about us,
fervently, constantly, and endlessly,
so we don’t one day become memories – ashes
of a great fire that once burned down an entire city
in my chest.
Tag: creatie writing
Fourth Piece
She was made of ringlets of laughters,
made of the scent of an apple orchard.
She was the quiet ripples of endless summers nights,
and her dress was drenched in sweet wine.
Purple poured into drunken purple.
She was made of all good things
that slipped through my fingers.
And I was made to love no one
but her.
SW Altair 