what you don’t feed, dies

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the fire in my chest
you kindled, love
years ago
dimmed when you
failed to feed it
anything but dreams
& lies
which sparked up
& burned too fast
like pine
snapping

it needed substance
to keep burning
& there was none

there is nothing here
for you now

but ashes

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12 thoughts on “what you don’t feed, dies

  1. The sadness is palpable, the disappointment, there on the surface. Very emotional and the metaphor excellent. Strangely though, I think it would go well with a very early poem of mine; about what may rise from those ashes –

    Up out the ash of burnt old flames,

    I found you in the pot of soup

    that rests on the fireplace of my heart.

    And offered you some

    on that cold winter’s morning.

    http://dmosmusings.com/2012/05/15/ash/

    (I always remember – Ashes breed Phoenixes :-) )

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