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7
Where a fire once burned
nothing is left but spiralling smoke
and charred memories fading
with the waning of the frighten heat
chasing after the thinning stream.
The singed lips of my heart blistered
with the watered pain of lost love
feverously struggle to utter
the asinine question: Why?
If you play with fire
you’ll get burned!
Shivering from the depth I have sunken—
diving into the black hole of mind—I search
the darkness of vanity to forgive me
for failing to gather the kindling to fuel
the dying love that once was as hot as hot could be.
Bitter ashes of lost love
are now moored in cold memories
anchored in tamarind tears.
