Not some unwed poem(Original Poetry)

(with no title)

.

This letter 
is a tight knit 
family of embers 
      in my hand
. 
Reading it, like 
looking into  the sun
          sears   holes 
through       retinas
.   
It may be crisp paper
but I'm the one
   being torn to bits
called by gravity
paused, a jumble
.
Coals scorch      as
each   scrawled mark
 digs through skin
when refolded and
moons start 
          to pull
my mind to and fro
   a cycle that'll 
never gloam upon
     a decision.

.

JAY


Thanks for reading! Words are mine. Pictures from Pixabay. Logo gifted by Papa Pepper