Poem 3/6

It’s Not You, It’s Me

Your gilded heart exudes pure intentions,

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

I am a burning flame
That burns brighter than any heaven you knew.
My warmth is inviting,
And you’ve lingered too long.

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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