Dating : The Ember

Here today but gone tomorrow.

I’d stay for the night but then you might

borrow me, as you tend to do, in your Sleep,

and in your Wake, where you tear me into pieces,

ravaging the very core of me, like the delicate lace,

coffee stained, lying underneath our old lamp,

full of holes, full of wounds, begging to feel clean

again or at least washed. What’s left of us but a

trace of ember, sitting coyly from last night’s fire,

Speaking, “I am broken, and I cannot do anything about it.”