stop thinking about him.
stop thinking about the scars from the blade
you put in his hand,
how pretty you would look
adorned in wreathes of white lines
wound across your skin like vines.
stop wondering how it would feel
for his arms to wrap around your waist
every time you collide in passing side-hugs.
stop wishing you could kiss him again as you stand outside,
the air humid and the streetlights flickering.
he's singing along to a song so full of emotion
and you’re so close.
stop thinking about the mistakes you made the first time.
stop wishing you could change things when change
is right at your fingertips.

breathe your fire, my love.
let him hear you roar.