Things that fall:

autumn leaves

shooting stars

flower petals

and tears

that you caused.

 

In all of September,

with a heart

synonymous with broken,

I ticked like a clock trying

to tell time with no numbers.

 

You must've felt those words

claw up the back of your throat

and oh how you must've struggled

to feel them jump off the

precipice of your

tongue.

 

Hatred is not the right

quality of gasoline to

fuel the fires of your heart.

 

You set me off like a firework

on the day before July 4.

The bright colors would be

so pretty if it weren't

for the fact it's not

in celebration.

 

I am now just a fire,

crackling in the sky,

happening upon

a billion stars that look

like the way I used

to see you,

 

before you learned where

my buttons were and

just

started

pushing.