Maybe Hope or A Huge

The trees

If you turned the lights off
Let night saturate atmosphere as embers of
A once roaring fire now smolder beneath
A blanket of ash glowing just so softly,
It might look like a bustling city,
From a few miles away,
Grasping at silhouettes of oaken statues
Reaching for a familiar hand
The space between main street and this palpating heart
Has grown so distant
I tell my heart to slow down
Driving back home to where lights
Shine a different context,
Not to get excited
A memory once sung has buried itself
Once providing strength
Now wormholes long and hollow
Leave me fragile and petty
Not to get excited,
The lake has evaporated the fire
So going 55 seems more a punishment than celebration,
Not going to the infant incandescence
The pyre waits as debt and birthdays fill empty space
After all
What burns better than dead devotion?
Eyes lock to the sky as we get closer
Pretending for a little while longer
That the memory of being alive is tangible
And my heart beats fast
And the city climbs atop the statues
Glowing just so softly
And something’s waiting for me

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Author: Montana Svoboda

I'm a genderless poet currently living in Central Michigan where I attend college for Environmental Science and English. Nature's some cool shit, frisbee's a neat activity, fountain pens are best pens, Latakia for life, coffee and tea keep these gears turning.

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