burn the bridge

I want to burn the bridges to the memories that I’m not using as fuel to be better.

Light them up and get off on the danger of the flames.

I want to burn the bridges located in the back of my brain.

I want never to have to cross them.

The ones that lead to the good times.

The memories I hate to admit.

The ones where I uneducatedly felt safe in your arms.

These are the small, rare moments written in permanent ink.

Burn those mother fuckers to the ground.

The moments where I thought I was so unlovable but was loved. 

The times I got everything I asked for.

I wish the bad overshadowed the memories of being the center of someone’s world.

Light the match.

I want to burn the bridges that lead to the nightmares of the twisted unspeakable things you did to me.

I want to scorch the pathways to the things I have to keep because they’re too humiliating and degrading.

Things I couldn’t come back from if people knew.

The things only you and I know.

The things that don’t make me strong but weak.

I want to be the arsonist in my own brain.