You left cigarette burns
across my bed sheets
pock marked holes
scabs
but they don't make sleeping any warmer.
There was a warm breeze
that blew through my hair
until the clouds came in
and cast shadows
cold biting winds
that took down my house.
They say don't burn your bridges
but it seems as if I never had bridges to begin with
and they were only dreams.
It was a cool day when I came to
and a warm night when you left
connections that trace the leaves which
scatter across my front door step
as I walked inside and didn't want
to come out.
A ghost.
I share no words but with one
who listens patiently and knows how to provide
warmth
but a temporary flame which fails to last
until the next morning.
I am knee-deep in blistering sand with
an empty bottle
a bitter taste
false hopes
a faded map
but I know I will find my way
one
day.
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