a spark
from the fireplace
burnt a tiny hole
in my jeans.
i thought about it
the whole night,
how there’s nothing
i can do
to make them look
new again.
how there’s nothing
i can do
to regenerate
the words you
carved into
my heart
with your
branding
iron,
they might
fade
with time
but never
erased.
mfgm
The spark flies out, a delinquent firefly, a dragon’s sneeze, flying up from the bonfire, trying to become another star in the sky and nobody will see the ash tomorrow, extinguished in the grass.
He knew his life had taken a different trajectory when he awoke by 3 am to find the other occupant of his bed gone. By their side of the rotund beside lamp stuck a torn piece of paper that had probably been torn from the packs in the library. SPARK has invaded. I WILL FIND YOU AFTER ALL THIS. Stay safe.
He felt a spark of inspiration. “We could do this,” he thought and rushed to tell his brother about his idea. His brother looked up at him, angry at being disturbed. “It would never work.” Then he returned to his toy dump truck in the sandbox.
Chanpheng
Sparks was a place in Maryland with a retreat house where teenagers were sent to find God. The rooms were tiny but private, and I had never had my own room so it was heaven.
a spark
from the fireplace
burnt a tiny hole
in my jeans.
i thought about it
the whole night,
how there’s nothing
i can do
to make them look
new again.
how there’s nothing
i can do
to regenerate
the words you
carved into
my heart
with your
branding
iron,
they might
fade
with time
but never
erased.
The spark flies out, a delinquent firefly, a dragon’s sneeze, flying up from the bonfire, trying to become another star in the sky and nobody will see the ash tomorrow, extinguished in the grass.
He knew his life had taken a different trajectory when he awoke by 3 am to find the other occupant of his bed gone. By their side of the rotund beside lamp stuck a torn piece of paper that had probably been torn from the packs in the library. SPARK has invaded. I WILL FIND YOU AFTER ALL THIS. Stay safe.
He felt a spark of inspiration. “We could do this,” he thought and rushed to tell his brother about his idea. His brother looked up at him, angry at being disturbed. “It would never work.” Then he returned to his toy dump truck in the sandbox.
Sparks was a place in Maryland with a retreat house where teenagers were sent to find God. The rooms were tiny but private, and I had never had my own room so it was heaven.