emc poetry

Your fire burned too bright

and mine was put out long ago,

so it goes.

I kept the matches in my locked box

that you somehow found your way into,

sparking a fire

in my waterlogged heart.

I don’t know what it means,

where it’s going,

if you meant it.

I don’t need to know the ending.

It’s warm and bright,

yellow and gold

something id like to warm myself by

for a little longer.

-emc