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Dec 2014
We fell in love in a house fire;
a blaze that did not **** us,
but rather starve us of oxygen.
Left Breathless. Choked.

I was incessantly used to being
the inflammable result of too many
fractured stars in my "decadent"
bloodstream. I know I was hard to love.

I set you ablaze,
left wanting approval from the smoke
inside your lungs in shades of
charred throats.
You left me feeling like a
faulty fire escape.

Do not come to me when things
get too hot. I will burn,
singe, scald and scar,
until you are finally the ashes
someone forgot to love.

Dean Eastmond
Dean Eastmond
Written by
Dean Eastmond  Weymouth
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