Sometimes when I'm with you
everything turns gray.
The beauty disappears.
The world becomes a pile of ashes,
and I start to suffocate.
I try not to surrender
to the claustrophobic blandness,
but sometimes the ashes get into my blood.
I abhor the feeling
because you used to make
my world explode
like the Fourth of July.
A great use of contrast in this one. I really like your use of claustrophobic blandness, in conjunction with the sufocating. Why do relationships turn from fireworks to only the burned out ashes and empty cartridges? jan
Cuddle, this is a winner. I call these kind of people black holes - they suck thelife out of everything. I wasn't expecting the end because I was thinking about my own particular experience, so the exploding line had double the effect. I don't have anything to suggest - you're on top of it.