you are beautiful,
but in the way that scares me-
like the end of a cigarette.
beautiful ashes that disperse in the wind
but warm to the touch
and causes scars when pressed against skin.
it's eerie to think
that the smoke surrounding you
and getting between your clothes and tangled mess of hair and face
is slowly rotting you on the inside,
eventually killing you.

(do you see what you're doing to me, scarlet?)

you are stunning,
like the moon on a stormy night.
you stand out amongst the dark clouds and lightning strikes
but do nothing to stop the thunderous booms
and heavy rain pelting down upon me.
you simply watch; serene and illuminated,
you watch
me
suffer.

but you are dark
not the mysterious darkness of a newly discovered cave
or dingy attic begging to be explored,
but a darkness that has become familiar to me
the gloominess of a soul
the dimming of a heart-
you've put out every light of hope and belief
I've ever known
and you've ignited the fire that holds no luminescence,
only the ability to burn and smoke
the fire of pain; your fire.

and it is (you are) corroding me.