poetry

Ash and Bone

My thoughts, this day, betray me. Can it be– that hope only endures for the duration of an embrace?

Faith, the frightened child which it is, the sullen runaway, huddled, amidst the litter of abandon, shivers in cold loneliness. A half-smoked cigarette, found, like death’s treasure, dangles, quivering in wait between her lips, as she holds the last match, letting it burn her fingers, until ash and bone.

 

Published by

Eric

I've come to write.

3 thoughts on “Ash and Bone”

    1. Ah.. this one. I saw the comment this morning, but couldn’t reply. Wasn’t sure which poem you were reading. I’m glad you liked this. Thank you 🙂

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