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mjad Aug 3
You poured out the gasoline around me
While never losing my eyes
Telling me sweet nothings
Crossing t's and dotting i's

As you leaned in to kiss me

The flames engulfed us
And your lips never reached mine
Gray Dawson Feb 19
Iced hands
Drip, dripping with icicles
Light a fire
Dip, dipping them in gasoline
Stick a hand in, one at a time,
Into the fireplace
Smile
Scorched hands, are happy hands
Crackling in time with the flickering flames
The shadows cast, dance the tango around the room
Skin melting off the bone
Drip, dripping down my arms
Lyrical Dream Sep 2019
It's ironic, isn't it,

how the heart's gentle mascot,
the rose,
can make rubies pool in the creases of our flesh

or, how love itself can pluck the beat from our hearts until we are left numb to emotion

or, how we beg our heart to feel,
but when it does, we fill our souls with gasoline and choke matches down our voiceless throats,
hoping to make ashes of emotions that we fail to suppress?
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
I can't close my eyes,
I can't close my mind
as my thoughts keep me awake all night.

I toss and I turn,
trying to find comfort in my bed.

It's past midnight
and my thoughts have been rung
with gasoline
and been set on fire.
It consumes the small pieces of
happiness that I picked up during the day.

I gaze and think,
as there is no save tonight.

So I lay with a heavy mind
and empty heart
waiting for my eyes to slip to sleep.
- Jul 2019
everybody burns inside
sometimes they just need a little gasoline
to burn the way they should to
Esther L Krenzin Jul 2019
I feel it all so deeply
that it hangs from my neck
like an unmarked tombstone
I've tried to bury it in
one too many drinks
instead
they quenched the embers
sparking in my gut
so I get drunk on gasoline
hoping to match fire, with fire
fumbling hands shoving matches
down my throat
swallowing them whole
consuming that which burns so bright
within me
and even after I catch ablaze
I still feel it all too deeply.

Esther L. Krenzin
Roguesong
Canis Latrans Feb 2019
The graphite colored smoke, that rose from your charcoal covered body, in billows of silver.
The ferocious orange and yellow flames, that dance at the thought of bringing your bones into the sun.
The smell.
Sandalwood and gasoline.
Morrie W S Apr 2019
if i
     could still dream
without thinking of them

if i could recall
      my nightmares
in anything a't'all__
.if i could feel less

       i absolutely would

but ev'r'mornin
doth i recall
the mirror and our
youngest faces


the **** goes off
          the shot goes off

if i had but a single dream
reflected on the television screen--
mayhaps eight i was.

    the explosions i cannot recall
but the dreams remain  the the the

towers fall.

              would that i could
               evacuate this path


              how can i be anything?
we went together like fire and dynamite
something was bound to explode
you and me together was like lighting a match and igniting explosives, nothing went well when i was with you
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