If you’re going to burn me,
at least be a man about it.
Light me up
or hand me the goddamned match
so I can start the fire myself.
I’m gasoline fumes and gunpowder,
it’s kinda what I do. I combust,
implode and explode
Why are you just standing there with the lighter
like you’ve forgotten what it’s for?
Toss your careless spark into this bonfire heart
and run. It’s kinda what you do,
Run for your life,
like I’m going to swallow you
in the flames you’ve lit.
Maybe I might. Or
maybe I’ll just let it all
until there’s nothing left but ashes.