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by V. Blake

it's a matter of timing:

the words to all the songs we sing
won't end up mattering
when you can take a pen to a map
and circle a moment that
a fire stopped dancing
under the smoke.
my love will break yours,
like i told you it would,
as the lies that sustain us
cease to entertain us,
and we sink like lonely
sirens into the sea.
you'll catch yourself thinking
that you're better off
than me.

verse-chorus-verse and repeat.


Posted on 07/07/2016
Copyright © 2020 V. Blake

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 07/10/16 at 06:59 PM

"a fire stopped dancing under the smoke." "and we sink like lonely sirens into the sea." - loved these images and was not expecting those last three lines. Thanks for this. It is worth repeating. ;)

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