By Vlad Bruss
like the sirens & red light howl
‘round our bedroom
to put out some fire down the street
that could happen here.
there is a point of no return in all things.
one strikes a match/ it catches flame & shares the fire
with candle and curtain alike.
one says too much - gets caught in false light
and at some point the heat arises
where it is too late.
what happened, so fast, we see as a slow fade
what seems to fade away
is only the rest of a spark that stopped burning,
the remains lingering long enough
to let us watch and believe there was a chance
to pull the blinds before it started.
what happens to something you lose sight of
before sight of it is lost?
rest assured, there’s still time to save it?... i’m afraid
that if you must do something about it,
there is nothing to be done.
there is a point of no return in all things & it is crossed
where no one can see around the bend
down the street.
what was once sweet about trying, turns sour.
after years and hours of trying to revive a fire
breathing life into the long expired.
what becomes of all the lost things?
when you were a kid and the balloon slipped from under your fingertips, you see it going,
going, fine until the crimson string is lost beyond the clouds.
you forget how it feels to have what was yours
but you never quite forget how it feels to know
You’ll never get it back & just like that
nothing fades like a promise unmade
nothing fades away like a stranger in bed.
i want to see where you’d go if i just let go
if such a living would make you desire me
if i didn’t breathe life into this flame
while you’re a fireplace for other people.
would I ever see you again
if i didn’t ask first?
what then of the fires
that need rescue from fading?