Fire

Why do you look at fire like that?

Perhaps the heat of it all nauseates you?

Have I instilled guilt into that pitiful heart,

Or is it a fear for your life you haven’t rightfully earned?

What if I drew the fire closer to you with the lighter in my hand?

Would you tremble the same way I would every time you drew your hands to my face?

What if I let you look at the fumes of yellow that could take both of us away right now,

Faster than you could leave a bruise on my skin?

Fumes as bright in orange as the animal you fear the most,

Though perhaps you’d prefer to be stuck within the tight cell of a tiger’s den,

Rather than to let this lighter meet the gasoline that engulfs us within these walls right now…

Surely?

There's no use in looking for the fire alarm.

It’s already been taken down,

In the same way you have sat on me with all of your weight to suffocate my screams.

Your breath getting stronger at the presence of the lighter in my hand,

And the smell of gasoline takes over any sense you had left…

You’ve birthed a wrath in me so unpredictable you’d fear this lighter more than I ever feared your insatiable rage.

Do you wish,

oh so cowardly,

that you had done things differently?

What if this lighter met gasoline right now,

And I took you with me in a real swift romance?

My fingers against the lighter start to form a mind of their own,

And you should choose carefully what may be our final words.