the fracture in my soul is buried deep and my mind is cracking with it. eliciting such rage as the red flag waved in front of the gentle bull in a china shop. 

the memory of your touch

he asked me if i still loved you like i love him and, for the first time in 9 months without you, i said no

and i dont

i dont love you

my friends laugh and how i move on but now your name is just ashes and he is the flame

at night i was alone with my aching thoughs and you never called

i was alone

for weeks on end

months

for two years i was alone

and afraid

and you never called

but now he is here and he never forgets. he shakes hands with the demons i try to hard to repress deep within my mind. he wipes the tears from my fire engine red cheeks. 

you were the one in the forefrong of my mind. 

the ideology written into every singular noun in my poetry. 

this is the last that your name will form rhymes in the back of my mind. 

this is the last time that metaphors will be made of your memory

the last time your eyes light up like fictional, personified, incandescent starts in my stanzas

i once write that i am a writer but i'm not

im just a kid with a pen and a memory of fire