i can't explain
how you sat there counting dollars
while your house burned down around you
didn't you hear the children scream?
or did it just mean nothing to you

if i opened my eyes
(after sleeping)
would the walls be restored
and my sanity encased back in its box
no, it can't
it melted in the fire
i knew the plastic wasn't good enough

i could have sworn i saw your fingers
twitch, your wrist flick
as the match caught alight, reflecting your face in the slick quick slippery
gasoline trails

and then you sat
and i stared
my boxes melted

i want my styrofoam walls back again
they were warmer

i want the wool on my eyes again
it was warmer

i wanted to burn with you
in there
it looked warmer