Keeping Warm.

The old hopes burn the slowest
with their greasy brown smoke,
smoke that smells like perfume and
reddens the eyes.

But old hopes run out. And new things
are fed to the flame, new passions,
sudden ideas, anything that can
be consumed will be consumed,
anything to stoke the furnace
in this lonely house.

Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

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

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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