what you don’t feed, dies


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

it needed substance
to keep burning
& there was none

there is nothing here
for you now

but ashes

About these ads

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.


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

Comments are closed.