Black Smoke


The glint of a pitchfork

Can be either

Productive or monstrous

Depending by which light


Wrathful contortions

Devilish grins

The same pointed teeth

Concealed within


And if I slipped away

Vanished before your eyes

Would you call ‘Witchcraft!’

And wish me to die?


I just want to melt

Into a crevice

Away from the harsh

To find my core at the earth’s


Hollow echoes

Are they the sound of my heart

I plead to ghosts

To distract me from my own


In the firelight, I’m enveloped; loved

Like how I imagine his touch

And I’m getting way too close

For someone who knows how those embers scorch


Stop, silly girl

Hike up your dress and run

You know his love is smoke

(Already gone.)



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