Writing

Breaking thoughts into pieces
Taking hours, sweetheart
Bury your face in your hands,
Let the tears flow

A feeling in my stomach when I see his face,
F
  A
      L
          L
             I
                N

i'm fine

i'm staring at nothing
thinking about everything
exhausted and hurt from the words that slipped off their tongues,
"you okay?" they ask without wanting to know the answer.

i wonder sometimes,
as i'm typing out message number five,
a paragraph pleading for an answer,
i wonder if they actually care

...but maybe that's the point?  I wrote at random inspiration and when I was tired, but I hope you find it entertaining

“The world,” said Claire, “is a very pointless place.”

On the hearth

there is a fireplace

it has a pile of chopped logs,

coals,

torn up pieces of newspaper

awaiting their burnt endings

On the hearth

a fire burns

flickering and crackling