Cut, Burn, Bury

Cut, Burn, Bury (By Cat Matchuk)

lighted matches on brown wooden surface
Photo by Pixabay

Cut, cut, cut
the young girl’s hair falls to the floor.

You ask yourself, who will I be now?
I want to drink whiskey straight from the bottle
and wear leather

Burn, burn, burn
a bonfire for all my past personalities,
the weak ones – the ones who couldn’t keep up.
The shadows who flew alongside her, out of the corner of her eye

Her, you, I.
Confusing, but it all means the same

Bury, bury, bury
the past, the present, the hopes for the future,
but not before tying it in a burlap sack
forgetting it

cut, cut, cut
it open,
and start again.

Poetry

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