smoke signals

I know it’s been a long while, but I think I’m finally ready to start sharing my poetry again. I actually just did an independent study in poetry last quarter, and I’m so glad I fought for it because I learned so much, and can see how much stronger my writing has gotten along the way. When I started writing this one I was thinking about my ex, but it kinda morphed into an exploration of how hard it is to let go of a relationship that feels so good and exciting, even when you see the signs early on that make it clear that this kind of relationship can’t be sustained. Smoke is always the first sign of danger when a fire is present, and when we see smoke in real life, it’s so crazy how instinctual it is for us to get the fuck out (unless you’re a sim lol… I had to do it). But I’ve come to realize with a lot of past relationships I’ve had, either romantically or non-romantically, even when I could feel the heat rising, and the smoke billowing, I never took the signals seriously until I had either been burned or suffocated by the other person. And in those moments, it’s so easy to want to blame the other person for the smoldering pile of embers you have left of the relationship, but if we are being real, how often did we also ignore our smoke detector intuition? I know I did way too many times. Acknowledgement is hard, especially in situations like this, but it’s something I think we all have to be willing to seek in order to heal and move on as better people.


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we started a fire in my bed





2 flames flickering





in the dead of night





billowing my bedsheets





burning red hot screams





into my pillows





so loud





I couldn’t hear the





smoke detector





      or maybe





I didn’t want to





     the heat from your stroke





sent sparks up my spine


setting synapses ablaze





slowly  





a smoke screen stacked





before my eyes





in the shape of our bodies





so thick





I couldn’t see the





blazing red dot blinking





on the smoke detector





or maybe




I didn’t want to





I know I’m not supposed to play with fire





so I tried to fuck it instead





I tried to love it instead





I made a home for it





in my bed





in my head





     all while ignoring





the burning in my ears





  the scalding tears





smoky mascara streaks





dripping down my cheeks





the weighty creak





from your midnight retreat





the bitter scent of loneliness





lingering





in the salt & charcoal stained air





the speckles of smoke sauntering  





against the last slivers of moonlight





just before




the truth of the matter





had a chance to dawn on me





tangled





in my scorched sheets &





charbroiled memories





I lay in my fire pit





   alone





synapses smoldering





my mind





the weight of a ton of coal





just seconds from crumbling





crackling embers





I can’t bring myself to





stomp out



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DAYSHA IS AN AWARD-WINNING WRITER, SPOKEN WORD ARTIST, DIGITAL CONTENT CREATOR, PLAYWRITING MFA CANDIDATE, AND HEAD-QUEEN-IN-CHARGE OF HER WOMEN’S SELF-CONFIDENCE BUILDING WEBSITE, YES QUEEN. YOU CAN FOLLOW HER ON INSTAGRAM OR TWITTER AT @DAYSHAVERONICA!