path

the embers of the fire
you made
still glow.
i search for fur and truth
and the strength to
do what’s right.

the night is
barren,
cold.
the morning promises
a different path.

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Your wish is my command

you asked me to
                                   stop
           writing
                sad poems
   so I’ve
                                   stopped writing
           p
       o
                    e
m
         s

Firewood

Drunk and
Collecting firewood,
Four layers and the
Cold still bites.
Bucket and stumble,
Torch flickers and
Fails.
I feel for your warmth
In the darkness,
But you’re dust,
Stars, charcoal.

A heartbeat passes.
Breathe inky black,
smoke, sawdust.

You are still here.
Always.
Still here.