kerrycoxpoetry:

I can make sparks
if you need them

she says, pink mouth
open…smiling

beside a burnt 
typewriter, the black
on her hands a 

dead give-away

curtains drained of life, butterflies
still

on the mantel but
not dead

i remembered the shirt
from a closet we shared
and tried to smile

back.

i didn’t need any more
sparks, or noise or holes
in my pockets

but i had long ago
given up

trying to tell her. so
i kept soaking my sleeves

in buckets of water and
waiting for the smell
of singe

to work it’s way
out

of my clothes.