Mad Matadors of Jilting and Phoenix

Did I leave you
      soaked in gasoline
      primed to explode
            brimming with life
            pulsating pain
      numbed by broken bottles
sinking into shards of tomorrow noon?
Did you leave me
      a mad matador
      dodging raging bulls of insecurity
             a raving silent
              single husband
      who'd gouge out his left critical eye
just to hear your garage door open again?

I swear I still hear your voice.
I swear I grieved your loss
and even though I swore I'd never swear again-

I promise I lit my crimson cape
      over two tanks of propane
            seared by closure
            reborn of ashes