The speaker begins by saying they want someone else to be happy, but quickly admits that this is a lie. Or at least only half true. They wish the other person well, yet they feel forgotten, left behind, and thrown away like a doll nobody plays with anymore. The calm, generous words at the start crack open into honesty: the speaker is withering and full of sorrow, and has no place in the happiness they describe.
The ending turns darker and quieter. The speaker imagines sitting on dried grass, looking at a smoky sky, and hoping the "flame in my throat" will burn them away until only ashes remain. The fire imagery connects to the title, where discarded things are burned. The mood is heavy, lonely, and resigned. There is hurt here, but also a tired wish to disappear rather than an angry outburst. The broken, short lines make the voice feel hesitant and raw.