Quote Of The Month

"A poem begins with a lump in the throat." ~ Robert Frost

Burn

You only come to me in my dreams
Haunting me with your poignant eyes
Your touch blisters my skin
Scarring every piece of me until I die

My flesh begins to dissolve
Dripping away the love I felt for you
My walls inside burn again
Needing your stars that surround our moon

I awake, still smoldering inside
Your fingers still pressed into my skin
Morning sun bounces off my flesh
Feeling your balminess within