The words that come
are drab. Unfeeling.
Who knew words
could carry no meaning?
But this time they have
no meaning to wear.
They just take up space
in the pit where
the fire usually ignites
and burns itself out.
There's no spark tonight
aching to get out,
but I stack the logs and sit,
fatigue leaving me dazed,
waiting for a match
to rekindle the blaze.
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