Frictional

Sometimes the sun can get too close- and

I guess you could say the same of the moon

Especially when the wind blows- on my skin

I feel your night fire consuming me, within

 

Each step further apart, burned even deeper

Until even my shadows were flames that flickered

And I was merely ashes of your destructiveness

Left- to be scatter in the whorls of wind; diamond dust

 

Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a little bit of rain

Oh, the thousands of those miss-stepping days

Still as fresh as when we first went our separate ways

and they still burn- as if they only happened…yesterday

 

Poet of the Light © 2019

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