I was born beneath a stovetop sermon,
raised on smoke and the echo of “just like him.”
She lit the burner,
called it love,
then blamed the fire when I blistered.
I learned early:
affection has teeth.
That mirrors are weapons
if someone else gets to hold the frame.
So I went looking—
not for love,
but for permission.
To be, without revision.
To feel, without rehearsal.
And they came,
each with open arms
and blueprints in their back pockets.
They didn’t say change.
They said better.
They meant less.
I gave what I could,
which was always everything.
And when that wasn’t enough—
I gave the shape of myself too.
But still I stood.
Not clean. Not cured.
Just standing.
Wobbly maybe, but mine.
Now, here—again—
I feel the heat in the glance,
the tremor in the words:
"Don’t idealize me."
But isn’t that the perfect bait?
Still, I stay.
Still, I watch.
Because I’ve learned to name the difference
between a flame and a forge.
I am not the boy at the stove anymore.
I am the man with the match—
and the scars to prove
I know when to walk away
and when to burn with purpose.
So if I burn now,
it will not be in silence.
It will not be for someone else’s comfort.
It will be because I chose
to stand in the fire
as myself,
and finally,
stay.
Engulf is a raw, introspective free verse poem that explores the psychological weight of childhood trauma, the complexities of romantic relationships shaped by formative wounds, and the slow journey toward self-reclamation. The speaker reflects on being cast in the shadow of a parent’s unresolved resentment, inheriting emotional roles not of their own making. This early dynamic becomes a foundation for a series of adult relationships in which affection is offered only on the condition of transformation—of becoming someone safer, more malleable, more convenient.
Using fire as a recurring metaphor—both as danger and as forge—the poem charts a movement from vulnerability to clarity. The speaker recognizes a lifelong tendency to over-invest, to seek validation at the cost of self, and ultimately, to mistake manipulation for intimacy. Rather than arriving at a dramatic ******, Engulf builds toward quiet resolve: the decision to stand in one’s own fire, no longer shaped by external blueprints, no longer asking permission to exist as is.
In Engulf, the author confronts the cyclical nature of emotional projection and internalized identity distortion. The poem serves as both personal reckoning and a broader commentary on how unresolved familial dynamics often echo into adult relationships. Rather than casting blame, the piece investigates the subtle ways in which individuals are conditioned to compromise their authenticity in pursuit of love and acceptance.
The poet's intent is not to moralize or to position the speaker as a victim, but to depict a moment of awakening: a realization that authenticity, though difficult and often lonely, is preferable to the ongoing erosion of self. With restrained emotional language and clear metaphorical resonance, Engulf offers a nuanced perspective on healing—not as a destination, but as a commitment to remain whole in the face of recurring patterns.