Rising from Ashes

 

Rising from Ashes

by Erin L George

From rubble, where breath comes slow and her eyes are closed

she'll rise. Lifting thick hips from a saggy couch and the television

dancing on the wall behind her. Illuminating the coldness in 68 degree

forced hot air.

Entangled with ashes from a soggy cigarette, pink-kissed. Stammering

to pull herself from the allure of believing it so. So soon she may as well be

intoxicated on the staleness of his breath, something she can still smell in her hair,

straightened now. Somehow.

Cosmic forces mimic the burns left on her soul and promises left on the stove

to rot like his intentions. Love is only love when love feels good, she knows

and can't say she really blames him. From rubble, where trust grows old she'll

rise. Again.