our house burned from the
ground up. the neighbors
crowded to their windows
to watch. their greasy cheeks
left smudges on the glass.
if only they knew it was
only the leaves. the fruit cellar
full of oranges. the porch
covered in pumpkins. the trees
so red against the storm.
we were finally warm,
content with how we were
always biting our lips ‘till
they bled, ‘till they were
bright enough to burst
into flame.
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