Flaming Letter

words hardly do actions justice and in the means of what you believe is right true accurate, you'll be surprised to find that every precise word spilled into the air is in actuality a lie. Spewed upon the imperfect page, burn holes swallowing every letter as if it's the first time. First time they've been said first time you've spoken those words. You have to forgive before you can move on but what if you hide it underestimated satisfaction in the guilt, the guilt you lost long ago you only puncture the paper twice, before ripping it to shreds before you realize you don't want this you never did. Instead you steal those words, throw the paper in flames waiting patiently for the next one- same as all the rest- who swarm in and deliver the same lines, over and over again. As if it's a cued movie. You're repetitive lines don't seem to phase me anymore they lost their meaning long ago and still, to this day, though I picked up each flamed scrap- and glued them each together- I don't believe it- I won't. Though I wish I could