All I want to know now
after years since our final exhale--
now that the debris of all we wrecked
has settled into nothing more than a forlorn dune
sterile and desolate, barren and dry from neglect,
a mirage of what was never really there.

Do you still think of me at all?
I think of you when I cross the desert--
a refraction of light
the prick of a cactus
I hate that I think of you at all,
it was you who knowingly sparked the serpentine fuse
that would ignite a raging wildfire between us.

As you evaporate in my consciousness,
I can't help but wonder again and again
have I become just a speck to you? 
an inconvenient smudge of dirt
on the surface of your searing mind 
blazing with girls' splintered hope,
hearts burnt well before mine.