it begins with a fire

it begins with a fire,

as flames engulf my skin.

the room is freezing as snowflakes trickle down

from the clouds and onto my window.

my blood runs cold in my veins,

painfully slow. 

the cigarette she lit 

sits in the back of my mind,

on the walk from the train to my house,

with fingers entangled within each other. 

there is a certain warmth in her eyes

that beg and plead for me to say

yes. 

here is not a place i want to be.

the room does not feel like home

and this body does not feel like my own. 

it begins with a fire,

in my chest 

after an hour

in the adjacent brown couch

(the black is exclusively

for when you crave 

a noose or the knife). 

as i tell the woman 

sitting across from me my plan.

our dirty laundry has been on

display for months.

she drops me off here on fridays

unaware that this is where we plot

my great escape.

it begins with a fire,

this time in her eyes

when i say i want to leave. 

she knows the love has grown stale

but clings on for something,

scraps of the future she wanted

that i couldn’t get myself to take part in. 

she does not know this has made me lose

100 hours of sleep 

in the past two weeks.