by Meaghan Velten

It’ll cross my mind, on my
next break
as I am outside blowing clouds 
that have little to do
with the plummeting temperatures 
That I don't know what
was going through your mind, and
likely never will
Having asked around  for advice,
little was said that I hadn’t
already surmised  
The point of all this though
(the moral of the story, love)
is that
we went up in flames
I think it was arson

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