there is something inside of me that will always burn for you.
it’s like my bones are embers; and every day since you left me, they burn less and it hurts less.
i have scars from the times you got too close,
burns all over my body that remind me that your idea of love is pain.
i still can’t catch my breath from the oxygen that you stole to keep your fire ignited.
you are an oxygen thief, your quick hands and charismatic smile.
i didn’t realize that i had been holding my breath until the day you disappeared and the air surged from my mouth.
it’s been three months, fourteen days, and twenty-one hours since you left.
and i am learning how to keep myself warm. but some nights,
i look desperately for a spark in the pile of ashes that you left at my feet.
because even on some nights, it is hard to stay warm on my own.