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Oblivion
April 23, 2016
I tamed a fire years ago
and lodged it in a paper house;
I drew a breath to warm my lungs,
to thaw the cold that froze my blood.
I gathered fumes before they fled
and shut them in a cage of bones;
I tried burn the ache that came with
every beat that beat too strong.
I cast my pain as wisps of smoke
and waited long for him to see,
but Death is blind, I believe;
he has not seen my skyward plea.
For every rattling breath is a hope,
a prayer for no more, no more . . .
but oblivion has not found me yet.
© Anonymous
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Inspired by John Green's work, Looking for Alaska, ""Y’all smoke to enjoy it. I smoke to die."