Bottomless depths of hazy gray,
Frigid air, feeling static.
The flame is gone.
Scorching dancers lie dormant in dust.
Black coals hold sweet fantasies
Rapidly suffocated, dying with age,
Caged, belittled, doused.
It was different then,
my soft hands warmed and weary,
Quivering blazes desperately licking,
Yet they fall short
Crumbling to ash.