Abraham Lincoln,
His hand and pen:
He will be good but
God knows When.

As I trapped you into a warm embrace,
To bring summer to your winter heart

I searched through the war in your eyes,
And found the mend to your wrecked soul

Right before I started to weld,
You snatched away with a sinking strength

I pierced your back with my laser gaze,
Before I sat on our forgotten past

Light up our backs,
bonfire,
burn,
burn us down
until we float
to the ground
as ashes,
ashen dust,
till death do we
ignite
the lives of those around
us
like city lights
or stars that
don't go out.
Outline.
Framed.
Posture
picture
perfect
Hanging
in this moment,
immortalised,
ageless,
free
like the flames
which lick
the velvet skin of
night,
engulfing our
shadows
as we stand
with our backs to the
stories
they told

- children
of the fire.

Stretched out my
sight line
like a tripwire trying
to catch someone
off-guard
and you
wandered into it,

stumbled slightly,

yet still
I was the one
who fell.

One minute I was fine
Then I just stopped breathing