I don't have to set
these trees back again
to the way they were, and
I don't have to light them up
again to figure out my feelings
towards them. I am peace, I
am peace, I am peace.
Will my mind ever be able
to think of other people and
other emotions and experiences
without you interrupting?
Will these trees grow back into
something stronger, or will they
be burned back down?
YOU ARE READING
THE ARSONIST
Poetry"You set my world on fire, but at what cost?" In THE ARSONIST, this prose-poetry chapbook explores third degree burns, stone faced lovers, and learning to love the blackened trees. New poems released every Thursday at 9PM MST/11PM EST.
