Silhouette

A ghostly embodiment on my chest,
a silhouette in the dim ruins of woe
of all that is my past
which has proven neither friend nor foe.

For how can the emptiness
in my canvas deck of cards
set ablaze
my poker face
whose heart has yet to thaw?

For all other specks
with suitcases and flint
laid out their own paths with
the skies as their blueprints.

But the shades, they flicker.
The beams, they cower.
Dream of drowning in liquor,
dream of living in fire.

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