You left yesterday
and I have already
spent years searching
for your touch,
both gentle and sharp
like bitter love songs.
For every time
you kissed me,
I am left with burns.
I should have realized
I didn’t know how
to play with fire.

Categories: Art, Poetry, UncategorizedTags: c.eve, ceve, ofeve, poem, poetry, shadow of eve, shadowofeve, shadowofeve.com, the first eve, thefirsteve