Burnt

A poetry has risen in my heart.
It’s lines are settled on my lips,
An ink carries it through my soul,
The words are ready to dance on paper.

My poetry is just your name written on a paper
A paper, that was blank before.
My mind tells me secretly,
this poem is my masterpiece.

That paper will be burnt someday,
the ashes will scatter in this summer heat.
Reminding this silly paper of a reality,
You like my heart will be burnt.

I am the embers of a dying fire.
Slowly fading away to nothingness,
My body is burnt in the chambers of affection.
and now I am just an ashtray in your heart.

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2 responses to “Burnt

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