Mar 17, 2021
A Poem of No Particular Importance
I’ve met silver and I’ve met blood
We were quite well acquainted, but
It wasn’t love.Â
The truth is I’d take fire over sex
Fire reddens my skin just fine
And he lights my cigarettes
His smoke in my lungs is like aÂ
Kiss, and I spend the dwindling night
Delirious.
Sad, of course, that he’s gone
But he’s always with me as I go on
He’s at my fingertips and in my veins,
The little red spots that dull my pain.
I don’t like to bleed. But do I love to burn.Â
Sun and stars, day, night
Headrush. Red eyes.Â
Blush or burn? Either’s fine.
The blush is ours but the burn-
That’s mine.
When I was little I was freckled.
I suppose that was my first brush with fire-
No.
Perhaps I shouldn’t romanticize my lighter.Â
