Falling Up

Trial by Fire

The stars are shining bright now and the planets are aligned for a christening of a new era. The oxygen fills my lungs with a new determination and my eyes open to stare at a bare canvas, ready to be painted with a new design because the old one was burnt along with the rest of my memorabilia from that time.

The funny thing is though, I don't care one bit.

I don't care if every last letter you wrote me no longer exists simply because those were just words to be blown into ashes. They were worth nothing except for firestarters.

They mean nothing. They never meant anything.

So the galaxy that I was sure was trying to kill me, smiles down on the small flames licking against old poetry that spoke of love. It smiles, knowing that I'm better.

I smile to myself, knowing that your love was nonexistent, ready to be burnt in the end along with my poetry and your letters. They were all turned to ash, along with your imitation infatuation.

I burnt the last slivers of hope you could possibly have about mending even the smallest friendship with me. It was burnt at the stake, a trial by fire, a pile of dust by now.

I burnt the gates to forgiveness, held a torch to the doors. So that I could never be tempted to allow you in again and you could never even beg at my doorstep.

I even burnt the parts of myself that still felt sorry for you. I torched the tender parts in my soul that still believed that you were deserving of my care.

This fire was long overdue. This anger should have released so long ago.

But I'm here now, and I'm burning it all. Everything.

This is the last time I write about you.

Because I singed the parts of myself away that continued to pray you came back again.