Our bed was on fire, and you just stood there. I swear I seen the devil in your grin, it wasn’t you but the you I knew wasn’t real - so maybe you were the devil beneath your clothes. I knew you lit the matress on fire, your dad told you to burn your old mattress and buy a new one every few years. That explained why you ripped our mattress off the bed we shared, knocking things over and creating chaos. You were chaos, sometimes old memories of you slip up, and I smile but then I remember you lit our ******* bed on fire.
A bed may have a different meaning for you than me.
You used me like you used that exact mattress to sleep around on. Now look at you, burning your past, trying to hide the damage we both knew was done.
You lit our ******* bed on fire.
It was a ******* Tuesday in January.