Magnesium burn

Magnesium Burn

Trembling as I try to warm myself with a memory.
A flash and a buzz and
a word I’ve left in a sea of them.
How I prized the beautiful, the tragic, the fear.
So quick to die,
so bright still that I watch for it in such a starless sky
drifting further and further.
Even now its shadow stains the inside of my eyes.
My voice is raw. My arms are weak.
No smell and no taste,
only ever (and just sometimes) thought of.
Who are we now? What is left?


About thestsp

Brenton Smith used to live in a haunted house. I mean, he never saw a ghost or anything, but he used to hear crap all the time. Also one time while he was in bed, he thinks something touched his leg. He and his friends eventually gave the ghost a silly name and it went away embarrassed. He still feels guilty about that sometimes.
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