Ash

To my daughter

hungrybison

A warm beer toast to God,
or a hot deep shot of black.

Something to swirl the dust.

Our faces too often burnt,
too many Summers.

We were meant to be here together
drinking,
intead we became
scattered.

The ash piled,
chaotic words
we speak,
ignite bonfires.

Too burnt,
we wear the smell of smoke
upon our clothes

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