You & Me: The Reveal

I never could find the words that would douse the fire and save you. I only knew how to write my own ladder. The ladder had splinters so we both came away injured. As I went down, I listened to your screams for me, but I was too afraid of your sparks to go back. Inky oil marked the trail down your back smoking as it went. I dropped my unlit matches never realizing they could still burn.
Once upon a time she was enticed by fire. Some sparks would die before they hit her tongue, apathy gathered in the bags under their eyes. For others, the heat and licks of the flames drew her. Those who wielded it in their hands tasted of charred passion and beckoned to her with singed fingertips.
She thought fire was what she craved as she shoved perfected stories of Cinderella down her throat. The coals hit her chilled stomach and left her in anguish, a slight burn residing in her mouth.
Standing beneath the smoking building, the husky smoke stained the clouds among their landscacpe. Hollowed echoes of your screams followed taking the form of the ravens that pecked at my conscience. They scratched away the words I had written for us, taken with them the meaning I longed for. Peeled, straggling letters littered my skin.
Firemen couldn’t understand the cause of the fire. Picked over and abandoned, pieces of my letters dropped to my feet, the neighbors stared. You thought I came away unscathed, safe. You never knew.
Hidden in the niches of my bones and in the edges of my lips, I had a secret: you taught me I never desired fire, it followed me.
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