If you squint, I will blur
so you won't notice the detritus
flying around my head like angels
and trailing behind me as if
to mark the path for you to follow
when I veer away, itching, half-raw.
It's hard to lose someone who leaves
pieces of herself behind like that,
even harder to forget the image
of a woman burning, completely undone.
Please forgive me for clouding
your pillow, for sullying your dreams.