You were the last flickering candle in
A world full of wind.
The ego grew while your pliant body melted
With your chared wick.
Merely a fragment of the sun, small yet destructive.
Burning was only an afterthought.
A shame that the caerulus oceans and aurum stars
Of your wavered shimmered soul
Caused your ultimate doom.
Eight AM, I wake in my father’s home with my mother in my chest.
There was a vacant bathroom outside the church park.
I crawl in beat, destitute, feeding off the radiant waves.
I stare into a warped mirror punched by drunken twilight boys,
On the porch, with grooves of woven twine
embedded into the underbelly of my thighs,
I sit and listen intently for you. My ears perked,
with unruly fire-streaked hair tucked behind them,
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