Honestly, You’ll Burn

Honestly, you used make me want to shred my ribcage
just to make it easier to show you my heart.
Honestly, the last time I saw you,
it felt like lightning had struck.
You didn’t even look at me then.
Honestly, I have been so infatuated
for the past few months that
every time you hit a roadblock,
every time you sentenced yourself to hell,
I resurrected you.
I resurructed you like the fool I was,
I was willing to look past it all.
Honestly, I was being delusional,
honestly, I just wish you were honest.
I just wish you were there for me,
I just wish you hadn’t given me hope.
Honestly, I just wished you had kicked me
at the start of this all instead of waiting,
instead of waiting and letting me slowly crumble.
Imagine how different this would have turned out.
Imagine how I would have felt.
I’ve wasted the last six months thinking about your hands, your lips, about you and honestly?
I’m over it.
Lightning is no longer striking my heart,
it’s striking you dead instead, and
honestly, I hope you burn.
If you hadn’t been a coward, if you
had just made your intentions clear,
I don’t think I would be writing this.
But you didn’t.
You didn’t.
So now, every time I see you,
every time you pretend you don’t know me,
I’ll set you afire.
Because honestly? You’ll burn as easily as paper, as wood,
you’ll burn in an instant because
talk is cheap, talk isn’t made to
withstand my wrath, and
since that’s all you consist of, yes, you’ll burn.
And honestly? I can’t wait.


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