Forced to live out of a suitcase,
I can only survive
By wearing old memories of you.
My nomadic heart has no place to go:
I am homeless.
It was my fault.
I burned down our house.
I thought I was fire,
And flung my flame recklessly.
Our blanket caught a light
And like your love for me,
Everything was destroyed.
Friday, September 3, 2010
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