Beacon

If you’re a house fire

Can I be your arson heart?

            Blue was my favorite color

            Before I saw the scarlet flames—

            Now ash black is a sign of love.

If I can remember a memory that’s been told to me—

Cut together like an acted documentary—

Is it mine?

            Can it be me through your eyes?

If not, can I excise you?

You might be more trouble than you’re worth.

It’s in your eyes—

            So green when they’re dry,

            Like mine when I cry.

But here we go again—

Always stitching up useless maps

That lead in circles

Back to the start again.

            Like that time I put on black liner and mascara to go out, already tired,

            Fell asleep with it to awake in the Mediterranean night

            With nothing but heavy air and sweat on my face—

            Only half-awake, I looked at the mirror before turning the tap and thought:

            “This is good because I’ll always get back without trying. I’ll never get lost.”

Devils are not empty angels,

It’s the other way around—

            But I get turned around so easily.

            Would you turn the light on?

            Would you leave it burning for me?