The Late October

Roll the windows down and take a breath.
It’s likely to be your last one.
Put the fire to the taper
Blow yourself out.
The candle’s burning but you’re brushing it away.
Flaming through your fingers.
Don’t brush me off; I’m liable to burn
You like the fire did.
But you don’t understand the point.
The knife is sharp but you press it to your wrists.
Enjoy the pain; it’s liable to last
An hour or two or three.
Longer than you will, at least.
But I’ll still be there at the end.
I’ll clean up the mess you left behind.
It’s all I did
While you were here.