It’s 3:01 am and I can’t find my lighter

My Monthy Playlist

I reach over to my nightstand in search of a lighter,

Desiring to feel lighter—not to smoke,

But to ignite a fire that burns the ties between us both.

I rummage through my spiritual altar,

Diving into boxes and even peering under the kitchen sink,

In pursuit of the flame,

To sever the ties, those cords that choke—

That cut off all blood circulation.

The bonds we have forged, oh, what a sick bond we have created—

It’s like the birth of a monster:

Frankenstein in the flesh.

I ask around, but no one has a damn lighter.

I need one, I need it now,

To cut the ties I have with you.

The ties that bind me down,

That keep me chained to a caged fence,

Stagnant and out of place,

In a space that belongs neither to you nor to me.

Desperate, I grab my keys from my purse

And storm down the stairs.

I race to my car, seeking the flame,

The flame that I hope will sever the cord connecting me to you.

I pull into the first gas station I see;

They don’t have a lighter.

What do you mean you don’t have a lighter?

How will I burn this now?

I head over to the next station, and they have a lighter,

But it’s not the kind I can use—

My nails are far too long, and I struggle to ignite it.

Finally, it works. I make my way back to my safe space, my home.

My altar is ready; the cord that binds us both will be no more.

I burn the two candlesticks from the bottom, so they stay upright,

And I cut the twine with a pocket knife.

I tie the twine to both of us; we are the candles.

The twine is our cord, the cord that will burn.

I take a deep breath and start to light our heads,

Beginning with mine, and then I light yours.

I’m so nice, aren’t I?

Volunteering to go first.

It was always me thinking about you, never you thinking about me.

Funny how that’s the way it goes.

The flames grow brighter, almost as if they’re conversing,

Your flame taunting mine,

As if to say, "Look who decided to grow a pair and let me go?"

“I can no longer bear this feeling,” your flame lets go first.

The cord begins to burn,

Slow dancing its way over to me,

Just like we slow danced during that fiery, infidel night.

You burned me then; you set my heart ablaze,

And now you let go first.

Did you even care?

I don’t think you did, because you let go first.

The flame reaches me, and my body begins to melt like wax.

I see you to my right,

And I begin to shed crocodile tears,

Not the fake kind,

But the kind that candles weep when they burn—

The ones that form bumps along the side.

I close my eyes and inhale the fumes of my burning body,

The scent of the cords we forged,

Completely dissolving away.

I open my eyes to see your candle burning,

A flame manifested by the cord,

This flame isn’t on you directly,

But hovers just off to the side, lingering,

Not touching you, because you remain untouchable;

Nothing phases you.

But you can’t keep this going;

It will eventually consume you—

Like my flame, attached to that cord beside you, is doing now.

It’s eating away at you; the flame begins to melt you,

Exposing the depths of your evasion,

The heat of your own pain burns your body to your core.

You know I hate to say it, but, “I told you so”

& I can move on babydoll

10.16.24