Blues, Bruises and Burnt Fumes by Ramsha

Spend another night,
with eyes wide open,
in regret
that you didn’t preserve
your lover’s caresses 
in the jar of your body,
like those dead specimen
which amateur scientists
put in generic solutions,
for future experimentation.

Forget
that your memory betrayed
that you have survived
the blues and the bruises
of love.

Breathe.
Live on burnt fumes.

 

 

 

 

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