I Can See His Pain, See It

It's Only His Thumb Brushing Slowly Across The Lower Edge Of My Lip, But It's As If Time Slows And The Sweep Of That Thumb Below My Mouth Takes Forever. It Is No Spell That I Know Of, But It Holds Such Magic, I Can Scarcely Breath. He Pulls His Hand Away Fast, Aware Of What He's Done. But His Touch Lingers.

You Set Fire To My House, Killed My Family, And Ate My Dog. But Steal My Boyfriend? That's A Step Too Far.

Do You Think They Missed Him Terribly When He Fell? Did God Cry Over His Lost Angel, I Wonder?

I Had A Friend Who Said, "you Don't Have An Internal Critic. You Have An Internal Sadist."

This Is How The Fire Starts. This Is How We Burn.