Your Blurry Portrait

There’s fright in my fingers when I set your ruins ablaze,

There’s tension in my neck as you go burning up in flames.

But what scares me the most is how much I enjoy it,

Seeing you mouthing overdue sorries for a brief moment.

And tomorrow I won’t have to pick up your broken frames,

Won’t have to chase these blended dreams just for the chase.

The moment undefiled mud got up to your high-held chin,

I knew you’d let everyone else’s high horse to win.

Now I’m riding in the saddle, calling mercy or shame,

Somehow the call comes easy when I get to your name.

One day I’ll pull the trigger, I’ll erase what started it all.

Your blurry portrait will swallow the fire

And finally make you small.