You play with love like it’s fire,as if it doesn’t burn you from the inside out.But it does burn.And you cry in the ashesas if you didn’t light every match.You take, break, misshape hearts like clay,then beg us all to stay,while we stay warmand you turn cold,searching for something new to hold.Not someone.Some thing.Until boredom … Continue reading The Wronged Man (poem) →