gasoline

you're playing with fire,

you know?

each test you administer

ignites the pain

inside me like a match.

each time you

reach out a hand

to barely feel my skin,

the fear

pours out of me

like gasoline.

and every time

your distance forces

my breath to

get stuck in my throat,

then let out

in a panic,

you bring the fire to life.

didn't your mom

tell you not to play

with fire?

or did she forget

to warn you

about getting

burned?