Nicole Lyons – The makings of a fire.
I would have loved nothing more
than to leave you gracefully,
but those matches I had hidden
in my back pocket were yearning
to be struck as I had been
stricken with guilt and buried
underneath your lies somewhere
in the bottom of your soul,
next to the misfortune you carried
and scrawled into the words,
stained with every untruth
and tall tale you had written about me.
But in a perfect world I would have
left them unread, and sealed
with something you loved
a little more than me,
but I am far from perfect,
and I have found that
even at my ugliest, when I was
frothing at the mouth
and choking on your lies,
I developed a taste for it,
the sweet and sour ache
that comes with swallowing
air too heavy with excuse
and your kiss too chalky with pills.
I have taken a beat to…
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