You are the prime suspect
of the destruction of private property...
you liken us to ashen stars – charred by...
marred by the violence of a turbulent galaxy...
can you calm the cold winds that howl
your name in the dark of night – when...
what should be said of the sorceress that
ignited a fire from where no kindling...
A slight tone of guilt envelopes my poetry,
as I question why he was ever granted a life...
the sky lightens with your touch, i’m left...
you set fire to most things, are you aware of...
parched are the lips that recite your poetry –
your words demand everything to take flight...
sheath your gaze –
i have no response for your tiger eyes...
on the nights where my eyes gorge on you,
a banquet of star-matter, where my belly...
the tragedy, the love, the tragedy!
This will be found in the following story...
When writing this prompt, I want to have
as much fun as I used to have whenever it rained...
I am talking to you on the phone,
we talk for hours on the phone...