burnt bridges [poem]

2015-12-08 15.43.36

Some bridges make better
quick-burnt kindling
than
river-crossing construct.
And so
I carry a box of matches,
my fingers always ready
to strike fire
and
to escape the wreckage.
There is no
weak-willed, broken
thing
inside of me, not anymore.
Just warrior goddess,
all fang and teeth and wild eyes
watching
in the flickering firelight.

– poem by Larissa Lee
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