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Addictions
January 13, 2017
feed me the bublegum paper, the scent that lingers.
That singes my nose and scorches my fingers.
That rattles my bones in the smoke of my breath.
That gathers me up in a wondrous death.
The fire within, the secret snack,
The chill, the shake, the fever, the crack.
You can find me here, at the edge of the earth,
Buildinga pyre, climbing into my berth.
I burn myself out in a blaze and a flash.
And rise, like a phoenix, from out of the ash.
© Cerys W., Marblehead, MA
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