the wings that you burn turn to ashes, my dear

burnout.

I am done
Lighting myself on fire
So you can stay warm.

Instead of turning up the heat
Grabbing a blanket
Or wearing a hoodie,
You add kindling to my flames.
You toast marshmallows
And praise how brightly I burn.

But eventually,
The flames go out.
My ashes scatter in the wind
Never to return.

So you strike a match.
“I’m cold,” you say.
“Won’t you help?”

I light once more.