My old flame burned herself out
She didn’t go out in style
Like a roman candle
It was more like a cigarette being ground into a dirty ashtray
All she does is sit in her room
Staring at the walls
She doesn’t talk much and she never goes out
She only feels safe in her room
The walls protect her from the monsters who harass her molest her mutilate her
She misses crank and she shivers all the time
It’s never warm enough for her
And the curtains are always closed because the sun is too bright
And her father may be out there
He taught her to hate and destroy
She hasn’t seen him in ten years
She can hear the tv down the hall and cringes against the canned laughter
Suicide is a warm fire in a cold cellar
She wraps herself up in her blanket and drags herself into the corner behind the bed
She softly sings to herself craving a cigarette
She pulls the calendar from beneath the bed and sees that this is the last day
Of life of self mutilation of nic fits of sit coms of abuse
Of everything
Singing herself to sleep
No one will ever touch her again
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