Ashes – a poem

I am not content
with crumbs from your table
with bones bereft of meat.
I want more than gristle,
ashes in my mouth.

Your arms cannot hold the heat
from a single candle.
How then can they hold me?
Your eyes look outward, yet
You do not see me anymore.

I am not content
with crumbs from your table,
with cold hands and dying embers.
I want the touch of lips,
instead of ashes, on my skin.

Copyright © J.S. White

Published by jswhite

J.S. White lives in the rolling hills of North Carolina. Writing has been a passion of hers for as long as she can remember and books trusted friends. She always has a project in the works, but focuses her efforts towards creative non-fiction, short fiction, and poetry. When she isn't writing, she's looking after her son, crocheting, cooking up delicious meals at home, or singing to 1980s new wave music.

1 Comment

  1. Donna White says:
    December 20, 2021 at 10:50 am

    Iove this, It says alot

    Like

    Reply

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