They warned me like this: by setting the colosseum on fire.
The Gods are furious that I have loved you more than I have loved them.
Here, let me explain, there’s a cherry tree growing inside of my stomach and instead of bending towards heaven, the branches are leaning to wherever you are closest.
This probably means that you’re light.
This probably means that you’re devastating.
This probably means that I will be on fire if I touch you.
That’s okay, light me up. I’ll hand you the gasoline. I’ll hand you the spark. It’s already there.
And I don’t mean because I’m crazy and it hurts, I just mean that I’m already burning up for you.
Somehow it’s a miracle, somehow the healers are shaking their heads and wondering how anyone can be ash from the inside out and still be alive.
Tell them I’m a tree, tell them I’m a phoenix, tell them anything but ‘there’s this woman and I’m new because of her.’
Honestly, I did, I told them about you and they don’t believe me but this is why the Gods are angry.
Because I have started calling you miracle.
Because I’ve left my heart out on the street for you.
Because the crows are pecking at it and saying ‘for her’ as they go.
That’s okay, I don’t mind.
I’ve loved you like this.
It’s the only way I’ve known how.
Let them be furious, we’ll tell them it was on purpose, we’ll say it was deliberate.
‘Yes, I knew exactly what I was doing.’
‘Yes, I burned everything down for her.’