Fireplace

My mind is Blonde.

I don’t run out of love

When I held the glass

of bubbly in my left.

Beautiful blue, greens

by the fireplace

While our children howl

under the moonlight

and the stars,

And the atmosphere

of how we fell apart.

I don’t have the heart

to lie to you.

You should know,

Angels are born

after the storm.

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