Poured out on the floor, splashed on the walls.
Dispensed meticulously, not missing a room.
She looked around at what once had been her home.
Not a moment longer; no longer did she have to dwell here.
Grabbing the matches she walked out, leaving everything behind.
It was meaningless all this while, living in masked indifference.
The deed was done now. No turning back.
Nothing shall stop her.
Not even a house, burning in all its glory.
Razed to the ground it shall be.
The breeze on her face.
The smell of gasoline.
So shall the memories.