Well, I've been coughing fires again.
Scorched the forest and frightened the owls from their burrows---
they fly across the sky like rushing stars.
And the deer, like schools of fish, scatter between the melting trees,
as waves of fire swallow the space behind them.
This is destruction.
Love is destruction.
I don't want to destroy anymore.
But you kiss me, and my heart ignites,
followed by a warm tickle in my throat.
Oh god.
Small sparks escape my mouth,
and float up to the sky like paper lanterns.
“Don’t you dare,” I tell myself.
But the coughing starts again,
and you disappear into the flames---
as I expel them from my lungs.

Just stab me in the heart for christ's sake!
Laugh while the blood curdles,
and watch it settle in the grooves of our hardwood floor.
Like scarlet veins against an old oak skin.
But you wouldn't like that.
Messes never were your thing,
So you'll hope it washes away.
But maybe it might stain.
God I hope it stains!
I hope it sticks to your skin,
like dry sweat and pool chlorine.
And I’ll let you sit there, gooey and regretful,
in the syrupy ichor of my punctured heart.
Then I'll laugh.
I'll just laugh,
and laugh,
and laugh.
Because you made a mess you couldn't clean up.
And that annoys the **** out of you.