Ashes without an Urn

Quite often I thought of dousing you in kerosene and lighting you aflame with the fire you started within me.

The burning you ensued, fueled by passions and pain, wants and needs, hatreds and pleasures consumed consumed and consumed.

You warmed me up, melted my exterior and made me hot with your touch and tongue.

You dried me, abandoning me in a desert, devoid of you and anything else I needed to survive. Barren, barely alive.

You knew what you were doing. You needed shelter from the cold, a light in the dark, and beacon in case you get lost & after you got what you needed you left me there to burn… ashes without an urn.