by George Pfister

Among these warring stars
I kiss your lips
And hold you tighter still
As fire slithers, blue
In shattered coals.

As feelings die,
Our thoughtless hearts
Churn in flighty

In broken moments, I
Can hold you so and know
That we can never rest
Alone but in ourselves.

A last brand flares.
I cannot hold you tight
Enough to keep myself
From leaving. 

Poem copyright © 1994 George Pfister.

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