Poem 3/6

It’s Not You, It’s Me

Your gilded heart exudes pure intentions,

So please excuse my disposition that has been
Etched by my realities, and
Charred by my childhood.

I am a burning flame.
A flame that burns brighter than any heaven you thought you knew.
My warmth is inviting,
But you ought not linger too long.

You perspire chemicals.
Butane seeps out of your mouth along with your sweet nothings.

You are not welcome here.

P.S.

I know I may be cold and unreachable,
But with every fiber in my body,
Down to the quantum foam of my being,
I wish so dearly to be rescued.

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