Do you remember

fireflies in your stomach?
sun on our skins?
your drum solo in my chest?

Your car crash eyes

Do you remember the crash?

It was an accident
we were never supposed to happen

I find myself in the palm of your hands and my only thought was you were never invited.

I was just another ******* country you visited without a passport

I was Pearl Harbor, Hawaii on December 7, 1941,
Showers of debris and dust,
You left me in the wreckage
destroyed
damaged

alone

But you came back and picked me up from the shambles only this time I did not feel whole

Pieces of me must have been left scattered beneath all the cement and rubble after the bomb,
your bomb

But I'm still here
picking up my own pieces

I never needed you in the first place

This past summer I burned for a writer.
Our first date, by a lake.
We sat on this old, worn out picnic table.
I should have known it wasn't going to work out.
We talked.
Hand in hand, crossing running water,
Dark.
The road was rocky and unstable and it  was the same way out.
I should have known it would turn out this  way.
She wrote all over me.
Touching,
Leaving fingerprints mistaken as ink stains.
She was writer and pen and keyboard and  backspace.
I was paper
and just paper.
She took me home
Lips to lips,
up in flames I went
She did that to me.
3rd degree burns shouldn't have felt that right.
I should have known,
I should have known
This was all too good
I was too good.