Fifty-nine: Burnt

You could start fires with those eyes.
I see them glittering across the darkness,
black holes to get lost in, but you see,
I’m already groping my way around so
if I give my gaze to you, I’ll trip.
I know I will.

Your eyes are flints
and mine are made of steel
and, between you and me,
I think we could start a fire
but you see

I’m not willing to be burnt again.
I don’t know if I’m willing to be burnt again.
I might be willing to be burnt again.
I think I’m willing to be burnt again.
I got burnt again too soon.

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Published by

Alexia

I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

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