Slow fire

There's nothing to record
no memory to preserve
just electric outbursts
that will die soon
Re-analyzing the waves
that now linger ashore
The sand untouched by the brittle water
still stains the pages of a diary

the bright, the burn

There's nothing to look back on
no words were left unsaid
just a light that stopped burning
too early or too late
Taking back the past tense
I need to read my stars
but as the pages fall on the dirty water
I begin to fall apart