Love is consuming
But still like a moth I’m drawn towards your light
Incinerated at your surface, And yet-
no gravestone has my name.
Each burn on my bare skin,
Is an evidence of the lava you produce with you heart,
And yet-I take it all on me and turn it into rock.
The rock that is the foundation of your house,
You paint it with the brightest colors And yet-
I breathe through the damped layers of paint.
You may consider me bits of ashes on the ground
But darling I’m a Phoenix,
I’ll rise from the remains and will be found soaring in the clouds.
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About the Author:
Words are her best friends and poetry the best place to hangout with them. 20, acts 10, Engineer by chance, loves deep meaningful conversations over latte, interested in psychology, fiction fan, incurable romantic.