Fahrenheit Poem by Kewayne Wadley

This high up,
The air is always cold,
Breath blew before our eyes,
A catastrophic explosion happens,
Mayham occurs,
Windows burst out of the building from eighty feet,
Tiny shards of glass spread every direction, as history depicts,
Desks become engulfed in flames,
Tossing, turning, through the rubble,
spinning from sixty to fifty degree angles, flying across the room,
No property, no ownership,
Smoke takes to the air,
Choking the horizon as each cloud of smoke consumes itself,
Becoming more dense, thicker as it expands,
An explosion lost in the fuses blown,
In oblivion,
The doors blew from their hinges,
Bending, crumbling as it banged against whats left of the hard tile floor,
A feeling of divorce, as everything went one direction or another,
Discombobulated,
A sudden addiction happens,
To watch the flames touch the sky,
As such ignites consumption,
Your breath and mine,
Entwine by lips,
Destruction of ones self