before you enter a burning house, consider every outcome. every result and conclusion must be carefully planned, there was no loophole or twist that you shouldn't anticipate. contemplate the burning embers, the dense clouds of smoke, the raging inferno contained only by wood waiting to combust.
when i met you i knew exactly how it would end.
you were wildfire and hellish heart, eyes ablaze with fingers made of flint waiting to ignite.
hands, used to stretching out to reach for something— a beer, a cigarette, my face, another girl's hand.
you were everything i thought i wanted.
so i walked into a burning building eyes blinded by blazing light. the heat from the fires were almost unbearable, but i had already expected to feel pain.
what i didn't expect was wanting to stay.
it must have been the warmth of your fire, it had been awhile since i felt such a brilliant embrace. you lit me on fire like a fresh cigarette, wrapped your lips around mine and exchanged breaths of oxygen mixed with sulfur. we could survive on a single breath alone.
fuelled by the fire in our bellies, i could not tell apart charred skin from goosebumps,
separate scalded fingers from weak knees
or burnt hair caressing my skin from your feathery kisses on my cheek.
the slow flame consumed me like sweet wine and i let it burn. i knew i could run out of this firestorm at any time, but somehow my shoelaces were untied.
and as the smoke fills my lungs, i burn from the inside out. a candle at the end of its wick. i stayed in the crumbling wreckage and tried to relish it for a second longer.
i didn't know when it would be the last second i would be able to.
YOU ARE READING
The Skin On Our Bones
Poetry"i have a feeling this might be a big mistake, or maybe, if we're lucky- something star-crossed." a small collection of poems written by a silly girl.
