“He was like the coldest winter wind, and I was like alcohol – he could never freeze me.

But oh, doesn’t alcohol need a bit of winter chill to describe how it remains consistent?”


My body is still covered with burns from the last time i let your fire engulf me. They’ve become faint reminders of how I gave up air to feed those burning flames in your eyes, how that mild breeze became wind and how it extinguished us.

But somehow, just somehow, I’m still letting the parts of me that aren’t covered with bruises touch your re-ignition.