Dear Diary,
Today I looked at him
and he looked at me.

Dear Diary,
Today I looked at him
and he smiled at me.

Dear Diary,
Today I looked at him
and he said hi to me.

Dear Diary,
Today I looked at him
and I fell in love with him.

Dear Diary,
Today I looked at him
and he was already looking at me.

Dear Diary,
Today I looked at him
and I could tell by his eyes
that he was in love with me.

‘My mother told me never to play with fire.’
My eyes looked into his eyes
and darted away just as fast.
His blue eyes however,
never left my direction
and I was getting a little shy.

‘Oh really. Not even like this?’
His lightly brushed my right arm
and that was when I felt the first spark.

It took little time for the spark to grow
and it spread like a hail fire,
burning every single thing in the way.

The spark in my heart was hotter
than the flames
or the fire
and the smokes suffocated my lungs.

Like all fires,
it got out of control
it left scars that
never healed
and haunted me
every time I thought
I felt a spark.

My mother told me never to play with her
but she didn’t warn me
about the sparks I feel in my heart.

My head consumes me
for a moment I don't think
that I am alright,
for a moment
I think of the dirt on the floor
realising that maybe they
are someone else's ashes.

How rude of us to step on them
how rude of me to believe
that I am more superior
simply because I am alive.

I gather my thoughts.
The dirt on the floor is not ashes.
It is my dignity.
***** and broken into pieces.

Insecure seeps in as I realize
my dignity is no longer with me.
I fall to the floor
head in my hand
and I welp,
hoping for someone to find me
someone to realise
that I am not alright.

But of course,
no one does.