Ember and Pulse

Mon, 05/12/2014 - 22:36 -- Ms Rose

You're still here (barely). 

Candescent ember amidst rubble--
warm-reaching to illuminate
shells of dismembered love poems
those you were meant to burn 
back when deep red lines like veins 
stretched over immaculate white reason 
and (under my inadequate words) collapsed


But I'm still here (nearly).

The stubborn pulse that lingers in evergold hope
of sustaining just one fistful of faded fire
in this far-fallen heap of unspoken verse

And I fear, I know 
a pulse is not a life
an ember is not a flame
And this rubble's not a home

But I know, I fear
every poem caught in my darkness 
and every landscape in your light
sometimes run away to meet in the
never-had-places of dream-drenched-hours 
where we maybe (always) one day were.

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