Maybe that's what I was—a wildfire.
You, so sweetly, abandoned the clouds and burst all over me,
but I, as what I should, encircled you with my flames.

You told me to stop burning things dearest to you,
but I bleed, oh, so gently! oh, so passionately!
and left them all to ashes.

Maybe that's what you were—a rainfall.
Always in-between of what I desire
and your battle cry for my last blow.

We didn't say we were a hurricane.
This is my trail, that is yours.
We go together, but we leave our separate ways.

I flickered, I rose, I got out of control.
What else were you there for
if not to watch me swallow the place so fervently
before you can downpour your proudest good bye?