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“Ashes”, we once thought, but the embers in our eyes might have bought us time.

Stephanie Briar

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Poetry? That’s easy. I just cut the vein, and let it bleed.
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Our memories lurch to a reluctant halt in their funeral march, so I can pour salt over them one last time.
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I am a phoenix living in a culture of vultures.
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I erected cities with adoration on my tongue and you burnt mine down in the wake of your love.
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I was looking for you in all the places our love used to be. When all along I should have been looking for me.
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When you focus on directing your energy away from harm and toward healing, you feed the soul and starve the ego.
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Love me until oblivion paints your portraits on my eyelids, sinking by eons into distance that never separates us.
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