my mouth waters from the taste of imploding.

(i've never stopped thinking)

would i feel better if part of my mind were exploding?

(about what it would feel like to be fire.)

i'm jealous of people who are cool yet hot to the touch.

(i've been sitting around tickling the fuse with sparkling fingers.)

my brain is dust. their eyes are fire.

(sometimes i shine. that's when i'm a liar.)

i am not fire. i am a fallen star.

scraping my fingers against a tear-stained matchbox

will not set my world ablaze.