Wild Fire.

Old flames quickly develop into wild fires.

Six months on the

Wrong side of seventeen:

Something’s gone wrong

But I can’t put a name

On it and don’t know

With which finger to

Point at it.

Every time I talk to you,

You send me in the

Wrong direction,

Opposite of where I

Started, three sixty

Later and I’m never

Sure of what to say

When you look at

Me that way.

Call me young or

Call me cold just

Don’t call at 3 a.m.

Not anymore anyway.

I don’t care if you’re

Lonely tonight, I’ve got

Somebody already to

Keep me more than

Enough company.

Down the rabbit hole

And the big eyes that hold

Every role of life’s dice,

Because

Even when you’re

Wrong you make it

Sound so

Right.

And even though I say

I don’t want your

Attention: I wouldn’t

Have it any other way.
 

I’m always a Monday,

Always a week away from

Friday, always waiting but

Never watching when your

Shadow casts its cloak

From behind.

Blue eyes cloud with gray

As lips and their lies

Lubricate the lonely days;

Speaking of dreams & wildfires

Of highways and hearts so

Tired. You paint a picture

But I’ll still dream in black

And white with someone

Else tonight.

I’m wishing on the west wind

And casting curses down the well.

The city’s in a cloud and

Can’t escape the grasp of an

Ever-present fist.

So say goodbye to all you knew,

Including me: I’m going too.

I feel an ounce of pity,

But measures of endless

Pride refuse to let me stay.

So let me say

I LOVE YOU

And let me go in peace

[Or try to…]