Fire

fire

When her body has absented itself.  When her flesh is no longer a part of the equation.

I burn.

I smolder.

I boil.

A rolling twirling DNA strand of rage, anger, abandonment and loneliness.

It is hard to find the sunshine when she’s gone.

I am cut off like shoots, buried like compost.  Unloved and unwanted.  Worthless

I wonder if she feels unloved too or has no notice…

Godamn you God for addicting me to consuming fire…  godamn you.

Fire.  Burning fire.  Smoldering and roiling.  Sweating

Hot damn.

Poems, Jean Llanomirth

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