I'd like to take a lighter, and burn,
that sweet sound of your voice.
Or maybe take every picture we took together,
and watch it burn in my hand.
I wish I could just, gather up everything
you wrote me, drew me, gave to
me, took from me, said to me, and
just everything else, and just burn it.
To the point where you feel my pain.
To the point where I cry and it starts
to rain, down on me.
Then, when the smoke is lifting,
and the rain pours down,
only I will be left, standing there.
I will watch as it burns to its ashes,
and then I will put the rest of the fire out.
Then I will walk to the grave,
and put the ashes next to you,
in that box, where I cry, and
lay down next to you.
I might have been burned to the heart,
but nothing will change the ashes I have left,
next to your grave.
