Burn

It wore the disguise of long Sunday afternoons
Spent reading the paper together on the couch that sagged in the middle
Pulled together by the inevitability of gravity
Repelled by the undeniably of clipped silence
Cups of tea steaming by elbows scrapped with uncaring movements.

There was no space left between you and I
Words festered like wounds in the crevices of my tongue
Leaving me to choke and gag
On hardened vowels and rotted verbs.

Closeness easily becomes cloying in apartments
Devoid of space.
There was no room for hollow pronouncements
And yet we made them anyways.
Platitudes reaching up to crack the silence
Toppling our frames like houses.

I found myself watching your every move
Reality becomes clearer
When seen out of the corner of an eye

Your limbs had begun arguing with themselves
In the twisted movements you made
No longer the smooth gestures of unreal Thursday mornings
Now we move towards each other in starts and stops
Mechaniations slowly sinking into rust and decay.

I searched for the trip that would give voice to the lie
Held in the curve of your spine and the jut of your hips
Cradled between your lips.
A lie that twisted the veins in my arms every time your skin touched mine.

I knew it was held within you like an ember hidden within ash
Just waiting for something to set it alight.

And I was born to burn.