The Burning of This Book
scraping back the bindings
of this book i have written in
erasing every word
that means everything to me
ripping that very page
with your name scrawled over it
into little pieces and burning them
burning, burning, burning
there's no fire
no reason for the wretched paper to burn
other than my somehow undamaged love for you
but that isn't reason enough
though my words are now nothing but ashes
i still uttered them
they still linger in the air
and i know you can taste them
but you spit them out
ON ME
not on the ground
but on ME
having no respect for me at all
showing your friends the ashes and my dead body
as a trophy
a mere momento of your prize and victory over me
but i'll allow it
but only until every page
with your name on it
is finished burning