Tyler R. Martin
The cool thing about paper is that it burns,
It’s amusing to watch it fade and dissolve
In the crisp crackle of the flame.
Words, however, do not burn,
There’s nothing to char, nothing to
Dissolve in the air.
There’s really not much to them,
No physical matter, anyway,
Yet they linger, like ghosts,
Remaining angered in the ether.
Paper burns,
The words on paper burn.
All evidence of their
Existence floats innocently in the heavens
And no harm had been done.
But words, once spoke
Remain nonflammable
And best you can expect is forgiveness
And the ability to cope
With a dour relationship.
bourbon, cigarettes and syllables 