This is by no means the end

The wasteland of almost maybes
calls out to me, while unrelenting mauve crocus bulbs open
I am a match waiting to be struck; outside
the sun, slowly ebbing, observes as I
walk slowly into the arms of dubiety– what little
resistance left within me crumbles, like
massive stone pillars; only
in this case it’s the vibrational energy of atoms and
molecules, logic be damned
there are times when we just know, before
it reaches a conclusion; just then
the sky shapes your face and I am
spared the moment when the mind becomes a blackened
matchstick– perhaps when we finally arrive
at the end of quarantine period it will all fit together, and I
will burn brightly, an amber-blue flame ignited
by your love.



Photo credits: Emmanuelle Brisson Photography, Pinterest

Literary device: Enjambment 🌳🌾

Day Twenty-nine ~ This is (almost) the end

Skylover Wordlist: Match 💝

Posted for ‘Play It Again’ @ Real Toads

Posted for Weekly Scribblings @ Poets and Storytellers United