As I sit at the stroke of 3
In this lucubrator
And watch the flame of the candle flicker,
I sort through scraps of your heart
On old crumpled paper,
And listen to the hebetude
Of your written words
I feel a tear drop
From the corner of my eye
And land on the paper
Smearing the useless promises of the ink.
I take a hand full of the promises
And hold it just above the flame,
Boutefeu upon it.
I see the ink bubble
And watch as the paper turn darker
Its nothing but ash.
As I burn the pile full of
Promises and dreams,
Written down for all to see…,
I also burn you
And everything you were to me.
For you were all a lie!
Lucubrator- a person who studies by night, or by candlelight.
Hebetude- dullness; bluntness; obtuseness; want of discernment.
Boutefeu- is a French word, and literally means “to set fire.”