Dear Mr. Wolf,

Dear Mr. Wolf,
When I told you I wanted to go back to the hospital
it was because my head
finally understood
that the heart
is a gas station,
constantly pumping love through our veins;
It is the most efficient fuel we have
and this makes us extremely flammable.

Mr. Wolf,
People are fire hazards.
You taught me that.  
Careless with where your sparks were falling
I knew
I was in danger of one landing on me.
So I told you I wanted to go back to the hospital;
as if this statement alone
would protect me from blowing up.
I looked you straight
in your twinkling eyes
when you asked me
if I got to kiss boys there.
With a lighter tucked between your lips
I let you set me on fire.
You saw me smokin’
and still felt comfortable spittin’ flames.

Mr. Wolf,
Before we are tin men;
empty chested
and in need of oiling;
before we are tin men,
flame throwing,
pyro maniacal,
fire place
tin men
we are gas stations
cringing at the sound
of other people’s squeaky joints
and hallow insides.
Fearing the pain of being lit
and still continuing to fuel.

Mr. Wolf,
I don’t know much
about this inferno
I’ve become but
I know
what would happen
if I let the flames die.
I know
how freezing cold it would feel
if I were no longer on fire.
I know
how everything about me
would go dark and my love
would be nothing but ash.

Mr. Wolf,
In a cycle
where the fuel becomes the fire
that is all too hot for this aluminum shell
and yet the only thing that will keep me warm,
there is no putting it out.

Mr. Wolf,
How could I be so stupid
not to realize that your starry eyes
were a warning
for the fiery ball you would turn me into?
You said you’re sorry you ever got involved,
well you must know this heat
from a different blaze
because I did nothing
to burn you.
So tell me
who turned your hands to metal
and taught you to play with fire.

Mr. Wolf,
If sidewalks were yellow brick roads
at least I could pretend
to believe in some Wizard to turn me back;
to extinguish these flames
and once again allow me to pump freely.
But they’re not.
And now every time a new person walks into my life,
I can’t tell if it’s them clanking…
or if it is me.