and everything that she is touches something raw and scared within you
this mirror image haunting flames
licking from within
you wonder if in your youth you looked like that though you are the same age as her
you wonder if you look like that right now

you don't feel right if you're not in pain and that might be what hurts you the most

so the summer nights slip
through your fingers once again
grains of sand in an hourglass
a beach
fireflies shine bright take flight leave your eyes
wide
and dull

a minute on the stage you are resplendent as a thousand suns, refracting
ten thousand hours you are the shade of worn soles, warehouse practice rooms, old blood and baby powder,
unpretty.
and glorious

you **** it up again.

caller id before she can hide from you
mother’s not done fighting but you don’t know that
she asks about your day and the weather and how is the brulee because she might get that next time
you think there are better things to talk about than overcooked pudding

you’re too much, too mean, chafing around the edges
sharp eyes and sharp tongue, a bed of knives inside
cutting out old scars
******* in the wounds
the words fall out of you, acid reflux slick and sweet in your mouth but you can’t stop-

she packs up her things six minutes later and it hurts more than a slap to the face might have if she were so inclined
and you wonder why you can’t love someone the way you were made to

******* press upon my chest, above my heart, just enough to sting. Her hands were always bigger than mine, tougher, stronger. She pushed harder.

(this was how we showed our love, back when we loved)

She’s doing it now, again, staring. Staring, laying on the pressure, trying to pull a sound from my mouth, a gasp, a curse, a moan, anything.

Her short nails leave half moons in my skin, a pair of eyes winking up at me.

you hear their anger, like a bullfight and your ribcage is the ring
your heart is the rodeo clown,
his job is to take the hits
if you’re not fast enough
you’re not good enough

sawdust on your lips, in your hair, falling. the early morning tastes sweet, chill before dawn stinging your cheeks. you think you've done good.

‘do you like it?’ you ask, though you don't know how she'd tell you, locked up in this pretty box you've made for her. still, you poured your love into it. you want her to say yes.

the five o’clock sunrise leaves you hanging.

Searing heat caresses me, melts me to the bone. It's better, so much better, flames so hot they consume all. I wonder deliriously why I've never done this before, never lit my fingers like candles to break the dark, never set a room ablaze to fight the frost, but I already know. No one ever told me how.

He carries me out amidst falling embers, and the loss is sharp, immediate. The fire evaporates from my veins, leaving me empty, burnt to ashes.

Are you okay? he asks, muffled through his suit.

It's cold, I say.