I fade with my words
heard them coming, but the rush
tear the contour
The bang behind the doors
Louder than a wooden tree fell
by the cricket’s pinch
Lamp stumble at the table’s end
with the venomic shake of the floor
Fire burn the papers blue
With the ink escaping through
the prisoner’s roof
The flames, echoes endless thoughts
With my mind in the mid floor
tap of collapsed walls
Ashes of who could have loved
I fade with my words
As I couldn’t find the voice
In the burnt day that it did come
MO.
Image courtesy: favim.com
Faith and Poetry's Home.. 