Burning

In my dreams, I dare to light a match to the constructs of my life,

Burn all the withering, moldy pieces;
the weaknesses and brokenness left by infidelity infestations;
the unknown outcome of my attempts to preserve this messy house. The pain is too sharp, the work is too hard. The labor long and arduous; questionably worth it.

I want to walk away from the smoldering heap of What Once Was,

find a weeping willow to climb to my new, simple home on a branch,

and sleep.