Bubble, Fragile

Sunburnt minds and
Lazy sundays, no
Words or empty
Phrases - we’re
In a poetry state of mind 

Nothing else matters when
We’re talking, when
I’m with you
I am mine 

Now I’m 
Broken.
The bubble:
Popped, gone. Then
The weight wears down. 

I don’t want
To be your friend
I just want
To kiss your neck
And hug you for three hours 

Is it too late
To talk? 

Sitting by the fireside 
There are many things on your mind but
Only one of them is
True 

Raging flames
No match for me
I try and see but
Smoke 
It blinds me

And you’re pouring
Fuel like liquor 
Sweetly
Over me
With hate in your eyes 

And still
I love you

Push me into the black.

And I rise. 
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