singed.

i never wanted to meet you. but you’d already bought the sushi

and i was taught that when a boy spends money on you, you

show up. so i drove over to your house and picked the cat hair

from your clothes and the felonies from your eyes. there was a

peony melting like a popsicle on your desk and our lungs filled

with soil and acid as we tried to catch the drips on our tongues.

i confused your slow scorch with gentleness and your brutality with

honesty. i ate the eggs you tossed down my throat trying to make

babies in my esophagus. trying to be a fraction of the chandelier you

thought she was. but i, i am a lantern. i burn fast and hot and leave the

night blacker than when you found it. you dust charcoal on my cheeks

just to see me blush. just to see me torched. you chewed on tree bark

while i slept and touched the curves of another light, letting me go out.

i never glow bright enough for ones like you.