The Wildfire

Your voice hit me
like a bolt of lightning,
forcing the blood through my veins
for what felt like
the first time.

That lightning
turned to fire fast.

Flickering.

We held each other
for the warmth,
but soon
were spitting our words
like beads of gasoline.

Out of control.

I stayed to fight
and watched as you ran.
Did you feel anything at all?

We went down in flames,
but I’m the only one with burns.

Like Magnets

You and I
are
like magnets;
living separate lives until
we were drawn
closer and closer and
closer and
closer
together.

And only the
thickest
bricks
could stop us from
connecting.

And only the
strongest
force
could rip us
apart.

But unless that force
is prepared to hold us forever
we will find our way
back
closer and closer and
closer and
closer
together.

That hole wasn’t there before

I could try to trace the steps you took to dig it.
Try to pinpoint when it started,
when it grew.

Was the first crack formed
that time we sat in the dark,
faces lit by the TV,
close enough that I could smell the stale smoke in your hair?

Or before that,
when the lights were still on
and I could see your nerves
in the way your eyes couldn’t decide whether to look away
or at me?

Did it start to deepen
when your hand found my leg
and my hand found your hand?

Or did it cave in
as you leaned in too quickly
and found my lips with your lips?

Did it expand every time
we laid in bed
with our foreheads pressed together,
in silence,
breathing slowly?

Or was it your hand on the back of my neck,
always pulling me closer,
that made it grow?

Your words and your touch kept it hidden for so long,
but they’re gone now,
and I see it.

And I know;
That hole wasn’t there before.
You made it, and now I keep it hollow.