My heart is a butt,
With a hot cherry
In the rain.
Nicotine dreary dreams
In the rain, abstain
From fostering a flame.
My soul is flint
Left out in the cold.
A fruitless spark
Until it is warmed.
YOU ARE READING
Thresheld
PoetryMy life is a series of thresholds that I overcome through poetry. Love, loss, pain, regret, humor, irony, word play, and even sarcasm are as much apart of my life as they are central to my poems here. I am Thresheld. UPDATE: It's been quite a few ye...
