I wish someone had taught you sooner that fearful and fearless could mean each other and maybe then,
maybe then you wouldn’t have left the way you did.
But every step you took had triggered fault lines, and I couldn’t
move without falling through another crevice. If only all the wasted time could climb out like I could.
You were a well combined disaster recipe. You slipped through me like summer breeze but punctured me like world war bullets.
Scarred me so much even I
couldn’t identify myself. You did so good
when you burnt me slow. But I think I loved your warmth too much to discern that you were no fireplace. You, a forest fire, untrue, until
Until I stepped foot past our boundary and looked back to find
a small candle to its place. And there you were, there you were
a single flame against the charred earth and I thought, then wished,
maybe even hoped,
that someone might tell you how much a waste of time it is to measure any flame,
they all(ways) burn the same.