Birthday Fire

Birthday Fire short poem

Photo by psd

My daughter’s face appearing in charcoal, her sunshine smile bursting from the black.
Creativity soothes me like a drug, anticipating the heartfelt thanks I do not deserve.
I will seem special, a façade, a falsehood, a temporary reprieve. The heightened love in her eyes fanning the flames of guilt that have taken up permanent residence in the back of my mind.
Hairspray to set the drawing, her perfection not suited to a smudge.
Viewings to reflect on achievement yield doubt. Yet another firework display in my head.
Flammable, unsuitable is this a birthday gift of death? Pink and fluffy things melting, Barbie choking on the smoke.
Overactive, insane, a devilish mind to be fought. I’ll save the day, burn it myself, heroic like the daydreams I used to have.
Watching the flames I stand too close and think that most people would not.
The beloved trainers purchased instead. Delivered with burns, with secrets, with sympathy that makes me want to cry.
Happy Birthday my Love.

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Paul Louth

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I am an obese hairy giant of a man who thinks so much that sometimes i forget that life is still going on. I have written numerous poems that if published would immediately render me unemployable. I live on the edge of society so that normal people can look on in horror without having to get too close. Creativity lights me up and i once killed a pigeon with a brick (After consultation with a vet).
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