https://soundcloud.com/becca-soper/arson
----
Over extended periods of time, you spit and sprinkle gasoline over my body. The pungent smell lingers on my skin for days, or for weeks-However long it takes for me to scrub away the memories, careful to not set any sparks.
But one day you do not mist me with it, instead you dump the gasoline over my head, allowing it to soak every inch of my body, chilling my bones. Your hands promptly spark a blaze to my shoulders, the fire rises and wraps around my throat and crawls over my jaw. I can smell my hair burning, an ache in my side erupts new flames to wrap around me.
I am on the floor, your body over mine, pouring more gasoline, lighting more sparks. How are you not burning? My body is burning.
I avoid your eyes, but plea for sawdust from your tongue- but all you can offer me is more gasoline. My brain begins to char, and the fire dies down to a deep glow. The burns left on my skin linger, and I stare at the wall instead of sleeping that night, in case you want to make me warm again.
Morning comes and I am dressing my new wounds, for some reason, I hope you will come lick them clean. But the more you touch a burn the more it hurts, and you only extend shades of disgust towards the dressings.
This is arson isn't it? Right? This is a crime? You deny accusations, confidently stating that those voices in my head set me on fire, because that's something they would do, right?
You're not wrong. Is that what happened? Did I imagine this? No. I'm not crazy. You insist I am.
You insist I am sicker than I am, to hide your own crimes against me.
You infest my brain with your innocence, but I know you are lying. and I silently carry that hot truth in the back of my charred brain.
How can you be okay watching a body burn that you kiss goodnight? how can you be okay setting that body on fire?
There was once a time you spoke fertilizer into my heart, allowing beautiful flowers to grow from it. But we all know what fertilizer is.
I still feel the fire in my sleep, but the smoke has cleared. I am free from your gasoline tongue, but I am still trapped in a burning body.
I still smell the searing flesh.
I still feel your phantom sparks.
I'm not okay.
but I'm always better than yesterday.
