tiny tantrum

A small inferno.

When everything changes, something must burn. There must be ashes and smoke and coal. The sunday seared. The thermal winds sweeping me upwards towards boiling point.

I wanted to howl like a banshee. To scream for a four year old child. To sever these bonds so I wouldn't have to feel the force of emotion when you two finally depart.

I am not used to being left behind. I am always the one that runs.