Sometimes I look at her and still think of home.
She ignited a spark in me and I had to stifle it:
wildfires never got me anywhere, and smoke lures the beasts.

Where do you go when you're posing for your demons?
What shadowless space is left in your head, inviting you to stay for a while?
I would think of her and they ran, still lurking but never touching, yelling from afar.
But a lack of refuel muted the engine and caused me to stutter,
things can only go so far when you're running on empty.

I learned to never regret but it's something else entirely,
walking through your home when it's empty and waiting for someone else to move in.