It begins with a spark.
It feels like the incineration
Of every empty
Touch,
Kiss,
And
Sigh
Evaporating
The space you took up
In my chest.
It’s fanning
Flames of disinterest
In hopes that they
Burn everything
You’ve
Ever
Touched.
But it isn’t the destruction of
Love or
Affection
Because that would insinuate
That you were
Important enough to
Feel it for in the
First place.
It’s fire consuming
The idea of
Time wasted
On a person
That couldn’t tell
North from South
Or
A ghost
From a beating heart.
It’s shredding
Every ounce of attention
Spent
On a
Patron of cowardice
Too pathetic to
Write these words for.
It feels like setting every
Word I’ve ever
written
on
Fire
In hopes of
Un-etching them
from my tongue.
It’s scorn pouring out
Of a soul
Scarred
From burning every
Bridge
Its ever walked upon.
But I will continue
To burn these
Memories,
Because
I’ll always be consumed at
The thought of someone
Not being drawn to
The spark in my eyes.
Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 12:02 AM UTC
It begins with a spark.
It feels like the incineration
Of every empty
Touch,
Kiss,
And
Sigh
Evaporating
The space you took up
In my chest.
It’s fanning
Flames of disinterest
In hopes that they
Burn everything
You’ve
Ever
Touched.
But it isn’t the destruction of
Love or
Affection
Because that would insinuate
That you were
Important enough to
Feel it for in the
First place.
It’s fire consuming
The idea of
Time wasted
On a person
That couldn’t tell
North from South
Or
A ghost
From a beating heart.
It’s shredding
Every ounce of attention
Spent
On a
Patron of cowardice
Too pathetic to
Write these words for.
It feels like setting every
Word I’ve ever
written
on
Fire
In hopes of
Un-etching them
from my tongue.
It’s scorn pouring out
Of a soul
Scarred
From burning every
Bridge
Its ever walked upon.
But I will continue
To burn these
Memories,
Because
I’ll always be consumed at
The thought of someone
Not being drawn to
The spark in my eyes.
