I’m drenching this rotten bridge in gasoline and I will dance with the flames as it burns.

burn baby


He sat at the picnic table and broke my heart.

Long empty days passed, my mouth unable to form the words that could possibly express my sorrow and regret so I poured too much liquor into it instead. Then I poured tears onto my pillow, the one that will never again be next to his.

I still have clothes from the trip in my trunk because I can’t even look at them. I can’t smell the campfire smoke that sunk into the threads, I can’t see the straps he pulled off my shoulders as we played in the river.

I don’t know if I will ever go camping again.