Gasoline runs...

down her cheeks

She cries in flame

skin slides away

from flesh

Put to rest

in the cavernous call of my unanswered hellos...

Her hair

turns to fire

Cinders and ash

cloud her eyes:

grey and black and red

Oh, the embers!

no one remembers;

she is too good to be true

Watch the buckets


Came to me in the middle of the night. I was thinking...what would it be like to cry flame instead of tears? That'd be cool, in a morbid sort of way. Keke.