how to cross a bridge without burning it

I: it’s been such a long time / since i’ve tried to solve my problems / without arson / that i don’t know / how to cross / a bridge / without burning it first / i’ve gotten so used to engulfing / the ghosts of your memory / in flames / i don’t remember anything about you / that isn’t covered in ashes / i don’t know how long has passed / since i’ve been consumed by this fire / but i fear it has burned the humanity out of me / and i have let it / for a chance that i might burn / somewhere that you might see it / i wonder if you would’ve loved me if you had seen me like this / raw flesh / beneath blackened skin / the crude love that has ached within me / bleeding into gasoline that will only waltz with the flames / even as i smoulder / i bandage my wounds with the hope / that there’s another universe where / you sneak your fingertips beneath the surface of my skin / and peel me open / like the layers of an orange / dig your teeth into me / like i’m something to devour / and carve your name / into my chest / where my heartbeats / were only ever / morse code of your name

II: my friends have been telling me to leave this place / for too long / but i still sit in the middle of this burning house / where i run my hands over the charred wallpaper / in search of every time you pressed your palm tightly against mine / when i tried to pull away / every time / you let your fingertips hover over the nape of my neck / when i prayed you would let me breathe instead / but no good could ever come out of / pleading for oxygen from flames / every footstep you have taken in my presence / still echoes through the hollows between the floorboards / and every laugh you have let out / has seeped into the cracks of the walls / everyone else is so boring / and you’re an ember that i want inside my veins / every thought of you brings with it a wildfire i cannot tame / even if i have buried you / in places i won’t revisit / buried doesn’t mean gone / when i walk over grass / on an especially sunny day / and nothing bad could possibly happen / the shape of your grave is a memorised feeling beneath my feet / i don’t know if it’s there / or if it’s in my head

III: i carry hatred around like / a splinter wedged in my side / every attempt i have made / at picking it out / only shoves it deeper into a wound / that continues to throb / with a torturous reminder / of how much i yearn for you still / of how the only stitches that will ever hold / are your fingers intertwined with mine / even if they leave scars / in the form of a longing that will never heal / there is always a churning in my stomach / that can’t digest the idea of you gone / there is a gaping maw in my chest / that only you have been able to fill / people still wait to see if i’ll look your way when you come around / and i don’t know how to tell them that / you’re always in my peripheral vision / where fire still gnaws at my insides when i see you standing with someone else / and your name sits at the base of my throat / like a dying breath / that i can’t let out / without it contorting into / dearest / or most beloved / i know it’s been a while since we talked / and perhaps my memory is rotting / in the bedroom drawer of your old apartment / somewhere you may neglect it / but i still miss you / and i wish i knew / how to cross this bridge / without burning it / completely

Editors: Joyce P.

Image source: Quinten de Graaf, Unsplash