Sure,
we burned –
lit up rooms where
our skin touched
– hot as fever,
fevered as flames,
but what was the radius of
this fire?
What did we burn
along the way?

Spark this – I dare you –
so that the house burns down
and the bookshelves, too.
Who knew
we were electric?
Who cared?
We (I) would have
done this anyway.
We orbited the idea of the other
until we caught; sniffed at the edges
of this thing,
until we got burned.
We had lightning
being tempered in our hearts.
Skin and bones can’t keep that safe within you,
and your mind can’t reason it away;
you can’t reign it in.
This is not our kingdom to rule.

You can only
ride out
the pain
until you’re smoking
in the middle of a field
with no recollection
of getting there.
But you got there.

You’re here alone.

Nothing else felt right.
You had to burn everything
to the ground,
and start with nothing

but yourself.

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