ablaze

i want you to do something,
for me.

i want you to invite your ex-boyfriend
into your house. i want you to tell him,
"make yourself at home."

i know he lied and cheated
while you were honest, but so am i -
trust me, trust me, trust me.

call up your estranged grandmother.
tell her to drop by for tea.

find the time, someday, to invite her over.
"come in, come in," you will say.
"please, take off your coat."

i want you to hold your front door open
for the girl who laughed at you in high school,
made you feel so fucking small -

wave her in.
tell her, "welcome."
it's okay.

trust me.

i want you to invite every little bad thought,
every insecurity and every negative emotion,
every scrap of self-doubt or self-hatred
that you have ever felt, let them
wash over you and in, in
over the welcome mat.

i want you to welcome into your home
everyone and everything that has ever made you feel
like less.

and i want you to sit everyone down
so they're nice and comfortable,

and i want you to go to the drawer in the dining room
and pull out the matches,

and i want you to say to everyone,
"let me just step out for one quick moment,"

and i want you to go outside
and burn that fucking house to the ground.

i want you to take everyone and everything
that has ever made you feel like you were less
and i want you to

make them less.

i want you to do this, please, for me.

because when the flames die down
and the ashes of all these sad, angry, awful things
has blown away on the wind, i promise -

i will teach you how to do it
for you.