I shout how they warned us

Always, they told us, not to play with matches

Secrets divided us

They told us.

Fire cannot be controlled

Lies will keep us alive.

Fire is is wilder than water,

Why didn’t I listen?

It’ll spread, they said

Its only a spark, you said

So mesmerizing

Standing a little close, they whispered

Only soon, each were loved

That’s hot, we said

Careful, don’t get burned

Both were lost,

What lovely flickering tongues

But soon they loved.

Cautious, we will be

They say—

What do they say?

Without them saying,

near silence claims their space around us

It happens, what they always said

Our fire

It starts to spread

Ash by ash,

Were they right?

Spark by spark,

Should we have listened?

Rock by rock,

But then it stopped.

They are the ones who should have listened, we think

Our fire burned

Longer

It sizzled.

Hotter

Our fire was alive

We no longer heard them say

You, I, and Our Fire

Then came Summer,

roaring in,

rays blazin’,

Summer sucked our air dry

But our fire thrived.

We gaze into its orange heart

On each inhale,

Our flames climb higher.

With each exhale,

Our cores blaze hotter

And hotter

I’m hot, I groan

So tired, you gripe

The fire mocks us,

As it dances with the sun,

weaving between

blazing waves of heat.

The flames of which are now their own.

We thought we were free from these emotions which control us.

Uh, oh.

Fire is much more wild than water.

Burning hot.

There’s no escaping,

Sighs of pure exasperation.

What used to be soft crackles,

Oh, so slow.

Now hissing demands,

echoing from every direction.

Tears of fire begin to flow.

A fire that burns this hot;

wants more,

craves, more.

needs more.

They spew around us,

in between,

And, through us.

Why didn’t we listen?

The flames,

they stop, finally

They stop dancing so wildly.

Before long,

we doubt they’ll dance at all.

Spitting & sputtering,

Little sparks,

kiss our bare flesh,

Inflicting the last bits of pain,

as a dying fire does.

On the last of it’s victims,

as they lay,

Very much hoping,

that they are too,

are dying.

Once again,

Spring is nearing.

Two pair of lungs,

continue to flutter

Not often or deep,

Sometimes hardly at all.

Eyes that do the same,

Always more mad,

Seeing gray.

more tired,

Than the other.

More sad,

Hearing static.

more numb,

Than the rest.

Feeling nothing.

Who knew

getting burned,

would feel like nothing at all?

Spring showers dampen what

remains among the ash,

That which used to burn,

fierce.

wild and fierce, it burnt.

Perhaps

Too wild.

Too fierce.

That which was us;

We burnt bright,

Hot,

Bright,

and way too fast.

Nothing like the surviving coals,

now cooled.

Did anyone really think it would last?

Who would have thought,

that they might have been right?

No more sparks to ignite

Only

Ash,

Two souls,

And their charred hearts.