These words scrawled hastily upon my soul

Embedded in the empty spaces

Where you used to be

I’ve heard it in the movies

A perfect B flat

I wonder if that is how it sounded when you left

It lingers, like mist on pines.

Line straight like a sunset

Down and out for the night

How long is your night?

How dark?

Where there are no shadows

Maybe you can cast a light?

I’ve gotten good at making up metaphors

I’ve gotten good at stretching the truth out of proportion

And all these words are sweet, meaningless,

You cannot trust

Anything my tongue touches.

I am the forest fire

And I am the fire

And the forest

And I am a witness watching it all.