Pisaries Creator

I got rid of your delusions one at a time. 

Donated your stuff away, sitting on shelves,
being touched with grimy fingertips 
and bad intentions.

This was not the way we should've ended.

Our adulterated misunderstanding of each other, 
melting the sun even hotter,
making us sweaty.

You walked funny when you were mean.

There wasn't much substance between us,
no truthful meaning in our touch,
and happiness disappeared.

I waved my distrust away from you.

The fire had been ignited,
a good smelling wood burn,
and orange flames making a night wish.

This is the ember that won't be seen again.