fireside
a poem
i’ve been running from fire all my life—
not because i’m afraid of it,
but because i miss it.
it used to fill the fireplace and
light the room.
my fat old cat would sprawl out on the carpet
and i’d play scrabble with my dad.
or it would be autumn.
and i’d be outside,
in the arms of my high-school ex
with his rolling stones sweatshirt on;
among a group of about ten friends
(just after my cat died),
and we were all fireside.
someone would inevitably
take out a guitar
(usually after the speaker died).
it’s crazy how much time has passed—
i don’t have a group of ten friends
anymore;
is that my fault?
was i the fire which engulfed
everything i was supposed to keep warm?
i’ve never written about fire—
now i know why;
the water in my eyes
puts it out before i can try.
this poem is in response to the “Burn poetry Prompt” by James (HVR)
thank you for reading 🖤
em
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The ending there is among the best I've ever read. Seriously.
This left me minorly devastated. Beautiful ❤️🔥