Backfired

I wanted to love you,
oh, and I longed for you
to like me, at the very, very least.

But I figured out too late
that all your convoluted
brain knew was hate.

Somewhere along the line,
you made yourself bitter;
you destroyed your insides.

So quickly they burned,
already frail, dried leaves
crackling under flame.

It didn’t take long
for your heart to singe
and smolder.

Less than a second,
and it was gone.

And then you knew destruction
was a type of creation.

You repeated the act
on so many women,
so many beautiful,
wonderful women
with potential;
with lives;
with solid-gold hearts.

You turned them into shells,
shadows of their former selves
just so you could have the sick pleasure
of watching them burn
beneath your fingertips.

I know because you tried
to destroy me.

I know because I felt your flames
licking my heels
as I ran.

I know because I got away.

Maybe I was the only one
brave enough to kick you
to the metaphorical curb.

And for that,

I am stronger.

In So Many Words