I was never anything but flammable material
I kept you warm but I burned myself out
Every week I tell my therapist about you
How things have changed
How I have a new man every night
How I rarely learn their names and they never call me back
How I'm nothing but empty anymore
And you judge me for healing wrong
As if what I'm doing is any worse than five weeks of self pity
As if your feelings will always continue to trump mine
As if you still have some say in what I do
As if you're still holding the matches
But I'm learning to speak for myself
I've learned how to moan three different names in less than two days
And how to make none of them sound even remotely like yours
I'm moving on and it kills you, I know
But you only liked the dancing fire and the warmth
You never could stand the smell of smoke.