Morning light engulfed in flame
A Picasso painting in the flesh
A dripping pen standing still
Leaving its last mark on crumpled sheet
Coiled wire tendrils snake around a box
A night of intoxicating buzz
Those were the memories I left
Underneath a scarlet sky
The last day I wrote you a letter
YOU ARE READING
What's Wrong
Poetrysome of these might not make sense but trust me neither does my mind
