Far away infernos

If you listen closely,

You can hear the sound of the paper...

slowly evaporating into the night.

Loosing it’s battle 

with the cherry on your cigarette.

You take a long, 

steady drag.

Bringing both of your lungs

to the brim.

Immediately feeding 

oxygen into the  

tiny inferno that’s resting between your finger tips.

Breathing a new life into the tiny glowing pulse.

This all but guarantees defeat for the paper.       

I relax and rest my head back into your chest.

Then,

I attempt

to some how listen closer.

but still,

You're to far away. 

I don’t think

I’ll ever really hear 

the beat 

that defines,

the rhythm of your heart.

 

@be_ren_dan

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world

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