Pyro

Pyro

 (a spoken word poem)

K.S. 6/2013

 

 

Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t go all the way. 

Why didn’t I push?

Why did I stay? After the fire just us two,

rubbing our hands together,

fingers clasping the others, we created this spark.

I saw my ex at the coffee shop,

and when his eye gleamed I remembered what it felt like to be loved,

so I thought,

why am I thinking of all the words I rose from the dead?

Why the memories of trees?  Me on my knees?

The smell of paper.

 

Scalding hot.  We went back and forth,

Set that forest fire full of paper,

Then smothered it with our wetness,

Just to see that glow again.

Damn-it why didn’t I go all the way?  Why did I beg you to stay? 

When all you would say,

is the taste of my charcoal mixed with your starter fluid,

makes you sick.

We were unique,

weren’t we?

This is good for me.

You say similar things are good for you.

Not like you used to,

when I was you.

I am watching his mouth move slowly; I memorized every shadow of your body.

I have been deeper and nearer than she will ever be.

 

I saw my ex at the coffee shop today. 

When we passed by each other in the line it didn’t even cross my mind,

to trespass across that narrow hallway.

 

Instead I ran through cable lines and wifi signals yelled at you and called you names.

So that maybe,

we can ignite ourselves,

twin flames,

set a blaze again.

 

The doorbell rings,

And I say come in,

This is how painful it is to dream.

 

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