Love and Arson

Nothing remains of those years she lit aflame
with a pack of matches and a burning cigarette,
except swirling clouds of smoke like ashen rain.

Mama always said that boy was playing games
with her head—turning teenaged kisses into regret—
now nothing remains of those years she lit aflame.

With a outcry of impassioned love, that he could change,
she followed him, their departure leaving little else except
swirling clouds of smoke like ashen rain.

When the promises he made turned to poison and passion into chains,
mama's little girl found it impossible to blindly forgive.
Now nothing remains of those years she lit aflame

with a serene smile, determined to not let him escape
her retribution. Hollow because of him, she could only let
the room fill with swirling clouds of smoke like ashen rain,

kiss her sleeping lover where laid,
then fetch her cat and lock the doors—no more regret.
Now nothing remains of those years she lit aflame
except swirling clouds of smoke like ashen rain.