Heat of the moment they say?
I disagree- it’s the heat of the day.
Each minute the tinder, the hours…
Oh…the hours are wild flowers-
In fields, burning themselves away.
Budding jealousy has such power.
Blooming petals that grow and lick,
Taste and chew and eat up quick,
The pretty feelings up in flames.
You ask me what there is to gain?
To rebuild with brick, you selfish prick.
For now, a burned out shell remains.
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