Up in Smoke

Standard

*
embers in the dark
reminisces of what
once was
.
your voice burns
still below
a memory gazing
helplessly
.
your moves
a magnet in the dark
fleeting screams
never exhausted
.
I could not help
but be set on fire
suddenly
.
time is robbing
us of any present
.
this was when
we started to talk
laying each other
bare
.
.

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About anna mosca

Artist, poet, photographer, reader, lover, walker, traveler. Feeling in wilderness. Been writing lots of poetry, taking less pictures, teaching a whole lot, traveling less than usual, loving more than allowed, riding public city bikes and not planes, puzzled over paintings. Beside all those forms I am.

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