Your Ego Is Not Your Amigo

"

I read in Seventeen Magazine
That you can get people to kiss you
By breaking eye contact to look at their lips
I think I’ve made
Seventeen failed attempts at this move

Yesterday, my great-uncle burned down
A tenant building that belonged to his brother
Exactly seventeen people are out of a home
You could think I’m lying for the sake of poetry
But it’s true

Thirty-four lungs have breathed in the ash
Of their livelihood
I want to tell them,
That at least the help came, sirens blaring
Sometimes it never does

My advice is to stop
Falling in love with pyromaniacs
Their heat is not something that can thaw you

If someone told me seventeen weeks ago
You’d never love me, because I wasn’t an arson
I would’ve gone out and bought a box of matches
But now, you’re a restoration project I can’t complete
Because all your doors are locked

When your skin falls through like ash beneath me
All I want to ask is, Who left you on?
I would live inside you, never touching any of the delicates
If it meant they would never find out that
Your vulnerability is flammable

"