Burn, Baby, Burn

If I could burn your memory,

like your poems, promises, lies,

I would build a bonfire to light the night skies.

And sit and listen to the crackling wood,

and watch the smoke rise and disappear.

And when it had burned down to cinders,

dying slowly in the dark,

I'd cry one last tear for loving you once,

rise from my seat,

and let your memory crumble to ash

as I walked away,

not one glance back.

I cannot burn your memory,

it lies within me still,

and there are times on rainy nights

I let it emerge at will.

It takes me back to your gentle words,

your loving embraces,

and your midnight calls.

And that's when I realize it was a misunderstanding.

You never loved me at all.