I Hope There's Love in Letting Go

Alight

The cathartic warm water on my hands 
as my heart soaks with the dishes. 
Slow dancing in a burning room 
while my lungs breathe but keep missing 
the misty morning air 
that saved me from the past night. 
I don't think that it's fair 
that loving sets me alight. 

Mhh, mhh.  

The carpet in my car 
is stained from the river in your shoes. 
It lays there like a scar 
that I don't think that I'll lose. 
Our love was like a long walk  
on a broken, small-town pier: 
I kept on falling in, 
but I'd never learned to swim. 

Mhh, mhh. 

You never liked the cold, 
but you spent your winters with me 
in Pennsylvania. 
How strange I couldn't see 
the summer in your heart 
or the subtle fault in our start. 
I'd burn to keep you warm; 
instead, I brought a thunderstorm. 

Mhh, mhh.  

The rain kept pouring down,  
but our love fell into a drought. 
I tried to stay afloat. 
Tried to be your lifeboat.
And when you reached the shore, 
thought I'd never been so sure 
that you'd bring me to solid ground.  
I think you liked to watch me drown...

Mhh, mhh.

The cathartic warm water on my hands. 
The burnt-out edges of our plans. 
If I was water, you were the drought. 
If I was fire, you put me out.  

'Alight' 09/02/23.