My fingers ache to write
About things falling apart;
About rubbles
Tainted with fingerprints
That match perfectly with mine.

About rusty chains
Wrapped around the necks
Of people I love
Tugged by the midline of my index
I keep pulling,
Pulling. Pulling.

My soul testify to tales
Of wildfires
Spread by the wind
Lit by a single match
Whose box is hidden
Below a wooden patch.
The forest keeps burning,
Burning. Burning.

Now when I tell you this,
Never tell me
You could dance with this storm
You could play with this fire
You could tame this leviathan inside
For many times
I thought they could;
Many nights
I thought they would
But they were gasolines
And I…
I will keep these chains
Bound around the handles of my door.

If you’d ask if you may come in
I’ll fill your cup to the brim
Hand you a nightgown
Let your hands burst at the seams;
And you can choose from then on
If you’d rather stay in a dungeon
Than to wander between
The nostrils of a fire-breathing dragon.

Words by Cherry Rose Guillermo Copyright © 2018 Petrichors and Metaphors

Photo by: Katie Hosmer via My Modern Met


Published by

Cherry Rose Guillermo

I write to remember.

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