we lit the fires we meant
burning matchstick bridges as we go
the crazed children wanderers
warrior poets and writer archers
sending each careful arrow inward
lighting hearts up in sparks and smoke
drifting lazily toward the stars
‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍
I'm an arsonist and furious
who has burned and broken countless
without remorse for the bones smoldered
in the tumult of moments met with passion
‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍
and I never meant to set aflame a hatred
you already had for the life you live
but accusation and worry are abstract
until they finally meet you at your door
‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍
it's a small thing to love and to lose
to wander forward and back again
while you call yourself an adventurer
but true courage and wayward thinking
requires that nothing remains familiar
and every path takes you farther from home
‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍
by then
‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍the world is only ashes