I never wanted to miss you.

 I know it's all going to go to flashbacks and flames.

When we burn out, let our ashes paint the sky dark, let our incoherent screaming smoke signals block out the sun.

I don't want to just smolder to death in the fireplace with a wisp of smoke at a whisper breeze.

I want to burn down the forest, strip the trees, so I feel like we meant something.

The animals will surge ahead the tidal wave of orange and red that singes fur and devours underbrush and pours grey and black into heaven while the angels hold their breath.

Maybe it's too much to ask, but could we at least leave behind scorch marks?

___________________________________________________

And she patted my head. 

I know I'll be okay.

I want to burn alive and wake up in a pile of everything we ruined.

Like a phoenix or something.