Original poem //
She’s always liked to play with fire.
A response to:
“you don’t want to burn bridges, now — do you?”
She likes to play with matches,
She likes to flick the lighter,
She likes the way gasoline smells.
She will not conform,
She’s a danger to society.
She likes the smell of darkness,
She likes the way heat feels,
She likes the weight of fog.
She likes voluptuous clouds in the sky,
She likes the to watch smoke rise
She likes to watch vision fade from view.
She likes watching baby embers grow,
She likes gazing at blazing bridges;
T h a t o n c e l e d h o m e.
She breathes oxygen from higher view;
Progress not perfection.
That tree that burnt in the fire;
It was only petrified wood.
It was already dead.
So my answer is —
It was already gone.
I just burned it to the ground
As a reminder there was no going back,
Again.