Dying Fire

(Originally written January, 1997 – Owen)

It’s cold and lonely in this house
Although it shouldn’t be

You’re here, although a chasm grows
And grows, twixt you and me

A chasm born of silences
When words should have been said

A fissure made of promises
That evanesced instead

But lies cannot rebuild it
Cannot fix the things we broke

The fading fire dies
Our late-lost dreams
Go up
In smoke

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