Go Up in Flames

My life,
is a collection of loose-leaf papers;
Of poems on the back of receipts and pocketed sticky-note sketches
Of half-written novels hidden under the bed
Of unsent letters
Of half-finished homework assignments
Of tissue paper flowers

My life is so damn flammable.

Maybe I should stop trying to catch fireflies in my origami hands;
maybe I should stop dancing around campfires,
stop lighting matches in the bathroom,
stop tipping over candles
stop holding onto sparklers until the tips of my fingers are ash,

Maybe I should stop being so willfully reckless with this construction paper body.

She is tinder,
and I,
am far too in love with forest fires.

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