Dear Demons,

 

I believe that passion and fury

are equivalent to playing with fire.

That these fires are unforgiving,

and inextinguishable.

 

In fact, I just so happen to be a

pyromaniac.

 

You see, the caress of a loving flame

can leave you whole

or leave a hole,

despite intent or even the things left unsaid.

 

Passion will withstand the test of time,

an old soul once said.

Burning until it can burn no longer.

On the contrary though,

 

A blaze fed once every blue moon

begins to fester in on itself.

It will feed on the thoughts and feelings

that are nothing but its own

charcoal haze.

 

With just enough fluidity

and the right amount of toxicity,

it would only be a matter of time

before such a tender flame

would burn out.

 

Eventually affection will turn to frustration

and much needed warmth

will become scorching embers;

A wildfire that never seems to cease.

 

Amidst all of this,

Every passionate feeling,

Every frustrating thought,

I just wanted you to know,

 

That I tore apart the "I love you's,"

Threw away your last "goodbyes,"

Set the trash can on fire,

And allowed myself to re-ignite

In order to feed off the ashes

Of this faux home,

 

So that I may burn until I can burn no longer.

 

Your "Friend,"

The Phoenix