An ember, alight

distant, unclear

not yet sure of itself.

The spark wobbles, weaves

kindling the hope:

of madness (and the madness grows)

of passion (and the passion ignites)

Nervous and insecure it swells

consuming the gray

splintering, fracturing

the Non-descript figure she had become

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: