Dots

Sometimes
When I connect the dots
Of all the compliments
All the refusals to debate
To argue
TO make decisions
To consider her own feelings
I think she'd rather
Be thought of
As a part of me
Like an appendage
Not an equal part
Than to be an individual
But occasionally
When enough fuel
Gas, oil, wood, coal
Is added to the fire
I intentionally burn
Underneath her
She escapes
The one I met and love
The other person
And although furious
The fire will burn out
And she won't be burnt
But perfect