Flames

You are my choice.
And now I hate you.
I knew what it meant,
Really? I thought I did. I guess.
And now its black surface rinses out the truth,
Condensing in my sweaty, cold skin.
A sad realization in another dim lit alley.
Its light plastered through a million different windows.
The path was my subway, a line within lines.

I want you to burn.
I read, I better.
I don't, I worsen.
I need to and I should. I would I could I.
The rubbery feel of if and if and if,
Smells like ripe fruits. Ripe and rotten with foresight.
Burn.
Burn.
Ashes to ashes.
Burn,
Warm my mind.