Fire


I see a burning house
and I think about the last time
you were in my bed
or I was in yours.

Either way,
we were on fire
and it was only a matter of time
until we both burned out.

I held on to you like
clouds hold on to rain
until you became too much
for my two hands
to hold.

I held on to you
until I couldn’t,
until you had to burst,
until you spilled out over onto us,
pouring truth onto the flames.

You were trying to save our home
but the roof was already gone.

No comments

ORKED MAG aims to stimulate dialogue and debate around social and cultural issues, arts, life and beyond, so we’d love to hear from you. Let us know what you think in the comments or connect with us on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook. Cheerio!