I’m in a good place. Friends the next room over, a few streets down. Living a life with those I love all around.
Listening to their grace, imagining you in this space. I could almost burn.
I know you didn’t choose your face, though it makes this a difficult race. Your kisses I can’t unlearn.
Bring the flood. The hours, days, months, years, the unquantifiable tears. Squeezing in self-discourse when I can, logic and hope crammed between fears.
Another dud. A grand plan disguised as a firecracker, prized, one promising an explosion, lightning bolts etched on the sides.
Though there was never a detonation. You cut the fuse short or maybe I never lit it. Maybe I’m like Rogue, absorbed that firework’s nature and can’t quit it
My veins are gunpowder. My heart the wick. Thoughts of you the flame and I’m praying they don’t stick.
My mind is racing with water in an old fashioned wood bucket, assembly line style carrying reason. Though my worst fears I can hardly stomach.
I’m working my synapses as fast as they’ll churn, but like every western movie ever filmed