the burst

onwards
and upwards it goes
swelling to the edge of
the burst (i just hope it
can stand the heat) i
can already feel the fire
stirring within it
singing odes to my
broked-down nerves.

if i can’t open a heart (bleeding
or not here i come) i’d love to
open an eye at least just one
i’d like that balloon to pop
come to think of it and
(sputter sputter) spout
into raging fire a torrential
eruption for the sake of chancing
an atom or two’s courtship
clasping each other tight enough
to hold onto a simmering
fraction of heat and

maybe just maybe
one little ember will breathe
and the ash will fall onto the
life loving dirt cold and bland

and maybe just maybe
a speck of smoldering orange will glow
in the bottomless gray endless streets
moonlight delightfully absent in the
quaint reflections on street corners
and as the ember sinks
burning into dust
her lids might open
and a flicker of red
would alight
reminding her that it’s okay to dream
but it’s better to sleep.