One bad decision,

made in good faith,

can destroy very good things,

and many good decisions sometimes

fail

to stop bad things.

I am not the agent of my being with you,

and I am a lighter person when I’m in your glow,

but it isn’t a night for heroes or saints,

and thank God, for I am neither.

I beg for some lightness of being,

or some holiness to bless me and my heretical, atheistic sin.

You speak in tongues, sometimes directly into my weary heart,

and you’ve got the voice of an angel, sweetest when signing for me.

And yet, your song betrays you,

For it gives all of your secrets to me,

and even when you try at goodbyes your eyes and lips would never comply.

I see it through you,

The salvation of all humankind,

and yet it is guarded for very few of us,

who would never hurt you,

and yet I destroy you with clumsy hands, dangerous words, and my reckless heart.

Maybe it isn’t a time for the song of angels,

the redemption of broken sinners,

or the love of two people of the flame.

Maybe all we do is burn people,

even when we don’t mean to.

And would you want to live less hot?

No.

And neither would I.

So let’s burn, until we can’t,

and love until we die.