Slow Burn

Carving a name in a bar of soap

I look to the sky with a deathless hope

I hang on a hook at the back of my eyes

I drip on the floor as I shrivel in size

I am the girl in the brown paper slacks

Librarian tucked away deep in the stacks

Doomed and determined, I wait in the wings

I shout to the sky when the telephone rings

Slow burn

Slow burn

Slow burn

Fire and brimstone are all that I know

Angels are shapes that we made in the snow

Giant white clouds and harps and white garments

These are a part of a separate department

I am the girl in the burning red sweater

Who goes to the doctor but doesn't feel better

Tied up and squirming, shouting the name

Working a job, smoldering and so tame

Slow burn

Slow burn

Slow burn