When the Smoke …

Back then


The smoke



It seems to me

We saw

Each other

More clearly.


A day,

A room,

A life

I was then,

At least,

Your mirror;

You were


More than mine.

In public view

And in private

You held me firmly

With sensitive, demanding fingers.

Screaming, I forced you on.

Who made the first wedge

That came between us?

The answer irrelevant now, but

If it were me, yours was

The sledge that dove it home.

Each of us carries guilt –

Like wolves having devoured a cub.

A life that should have blossomed …

Consumed by the wrong kind of passion.

8 thoughts on “When the Smoke …

  1. It goes for the jugular and connects with truth.

  2. ankita says:

    finding and loosing and making love to a sin so beautiful…
    so very well written Beeseeker.. 🙂

  3. Chatty Owl says:

    Incredible. One of the best ones i read!!!!!! Im amazed. So so good.

  4. beeseeker says:

    … especially when the poetry is mine

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