The Fire Beneath My Skin

Once, I feared the fire—
That hunger coiled in shadow,
Licking at my ribs,
Whispering that I could be more
If only I dared to burn.

I mistook it for danger,
For lust too wild to hold,
For rage that would scorch
My quiet, married life.

But my wife—steady as stone—
Held my trembling hand
As I turned to face it,
That dragon beneath my skin.

Not a destroyer, but a guide—
It taught me to shed shame
Like old scales, flaking away,
Revealing the self I had silenced.

Now, I walk with fire
Braided in my breath.
I love with heat,
But I do not burn.

© Susie Stiles-Wolf