If desires are flames,

then I am a wildfire—

unholy, uncontained.

You lit a spark

and now the world burns

with the shape of you.

I do not want gently.

I do not long politely.

I crave.

With teeth and trembling hands,

with sleepless hours and stolen glances,

with a hunger that stains my ribs

and leaves no room for breath.

You live behind my eyelids now—

ghosting every blink,

haunting every silence.

You’re in the way I stir my coffee,

the way I cross the street,

the way I forget

what it was like

to not want.

This need—

it is greedy.

It creeps through marrow,

tangles around thought,

and scorches reason

to ash.

I can’t put it out.

I don’t want to.

Let it eat me alive.

Let it hollow me out

until I am only

this ache,

this scream,

this wildfire

wearing the shape of a girl

who once believed

she could survive wanting you