phoenix

i killed her.

it was hate at first sight;

once i'd seen what she'd become, i knew that

i could not go on

with her breathing my air.

i killed her.

i burned her books and clothes and a+ essays

i burned her heart

or

at least

what was left of it.

i killed her yet in doing so,

she gave new life to me.

smoke rose from the tongues of flame

and i rose with it, above it, better than what we had been.

i killed her and never looked back

grateful that she had left me no scars

grateful that she had taught me what not to become

grateful that she had saved enough money for me to take the Amtrak west

where she'd be

reborn into Me.