Bare

My bones lay like dust in your eyes.
Is that why you cry?
Seeing such emotion stripped bare.
Chalking up your mind.
Yet this heart beats in your mouth.
An oral fixation for the truth.
Tasting every rhythm. Every pulse.
I burned all this down around me.
To smoke out the ghosts of a past.
The ones you wanted dead.
So, now lay me down.
And kiss me back to life.

23/11/202223/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: bones, heart, smokeTags: art, bones, fire, flame, ghosts, heart, love, pain, poem, Poetry, smoke, truth, you Leave a comment