Spectre

by Brooke Powell


I was a firework

dancing across a live wire,

a fuse that couldn’t be tamed,

and I stitched my legend into a tapestry of sunlight and shadows.

You were a parasite,

a creature from the fleeting night,

nesting in the chartreuse fabric

and boasting of a love that

moved only in the figure of muddled art;

then the day arrived when you decided

you were embarrassed of my colors,

so with a shiver, I tamed my fuse

because you preferred a ghost.