You used to

light fireworks


in my heart


the sparks

were seen for miles


incandescent joy

that floated


into space.


I used to feel

love was something


to be found


like gold:

a nuclear heroin


of heart


I was addicted

to the thought


of searching.


Yet here

the autumn leaves


become a softer muse,


the reds & golds of earth

once yearly metamorph


& all the drama

of the past


remains a fantasy

I made for me


to cling to.


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