Burnt
Why can't we look
Deep inside ourselves?
While my sole existence
Is a fountain of amber
In the breadth of your
Burning waltz with each other
You fan his putrefaction
By throwing a dry stick
And the victim of the immolation
Is my scarce flame
And he fans his own fire
With the coals of my dying
To meet a fire break
With you
While the sly tongue
Of fire I held is
A picador hurtling
For its own death
Because I shall not
Succumb to this
Incendiary death
So while we banter
About valiance,
Lies and promises,
And selfishness,
I shall careen into
The holes of the stitches.
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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