Ember
One
The sun sets in her eyes in a million different ways: some days, it's a glorious wave of scarlet clouds seeping through her skin; others it's a cold harsh divide between day and night. She's never the same person two days in a row, I love a million different people by loving only her.
But on this day, her sunset seems too final: it's undoubtedly a farewell, this time for real, forever. I will never wake up to the sunrise in her eyes again, I can sense it in the way her lips press ashes into my skin, like the flames that once bound us have slowly started to die down.
She doesn't do half lidded love or barely awake pillow talk. She deserves fires burning in her soul and not barely warm embers.
Love is not over, but we are. She will find a match to set her ablaze and I suppose I should bury these half-burnt logs.
But on this day, her sunset seems too final: it's undoubtedly a farewell, this time for real, forever. I will never wake up to the sunrise in her eyes again, I can sense it in the way her lips press ashes into my skin, like the flames that once bound us have slowly started to die down.
She doesn't do half lidded love or barely awake pillow talk. She deserves fires burning in her soul and not barely warm embers.
Love is not over, but we are. She will find a match to set her ablaze and I suppose I should bury these half-burnt logs.