Wasted.
Another bottle of fire water
churning in the pit
of my soul.
I'm wasted.

The warmth we use to feel
concealed in the arms
of one another
was left unattended.

The spark that followed
was nothing short of the hollow
human I've become
since you decided to pull the trigger.

Bang!
Nothing but a smoking gun
a few fingers prints
and no alibi.
You killed the best parts of me.

I hope you know
that I can't breathe here
entangled in the black
smoke as it's fingers
strangle me silently.

How do you escape a fire
that burns vibrantly
from the inside?

You can't stop, drop and roll
when the flames
make themselves
at home and feed
on the happiness you usually
keep stored on the top shelf.

I'm wasted.
A burning man
but still cold enough
to remember the frigid way
you turned and left
me waiting for a call...

a call that never came.

I want to forgive you
but that part of me
no longer exist
outside of ashes and a shadowy
reminder of what once stood
in it's wake.

I am a man on fire
with no water
only tears of gasoline
that stream like Netflix films.

Let me find peace
in my slow decay.
So don't call
and don't write.

Don't search for me
when your own spark
finds a fuse strong enough
to ignite the same pain
I've learned to love.

But when the last flame
has claimed the last bits
of my humanity
just know that the
seedlings will fall.

And my roots will set a course
for the center of the Earth
and my stem with rise like mountains
and find a home
in the heavens.
I am a burning man...

but only for now.