The emptiness of this room whispers
to me with the same pain you had in your voice:
“Sometimes love just isn’t enough”
With those words you made the poetess
in me want to set on fire all of the poems she wrote.
If not love, then what?
You know it’s not just a habit.
You know it’s not just “We decided to stay friends”
It’s the flame that never went out and
it’s burning through your veins,
pulling you back to hell
as you fall into his arms again.
But you love the heat, don’t you?
You have been standing on my doorsteps
dripping wet from the rain begging for me
to let you in for hours and it seems as
the rain washed away the little brain you
had in your head because you don’t seem to
understand you’re not coming in, you’re not
crossing that line again.
I miss you. I love you. I made a mistake.
If you say another cliché I will go insane.
I can finally see the lies, the betrayal.
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her” was
your approach to whatever the hell we had.
Despite everything, all of this tonight is still
my fault. I wasn’t careful enough. Please move
a few steps back while I get a lighter so I can burn
my welcome mat. Do you get the message now?
She was a fire born on a hot summer day.
Her heart was kind but too exposed so it
became a liability. She realized to late
what kind of place the world is and somehow
the fire got burned. There’s ice running
through her veins now. The fire is dying out.
Tonight I am letting it all out.
I am starting a fire to burn down the
bridges I’ve built. It burns my soul too
but they need to go down. No more
turning back. Never again will I walk
the old path and when the fire burns
out I will start building a new bridge.
One that leads back to me.
The war didn’t begin now. Something
that never ended can’t just begin now
you clueless child. Hell won’t stop
burning just because you pretend you
can’t see the flames. You should try
running through the fire, maybe it
will burn less.