Credit: Pixabay Credit: Pixabay

This is how I felt about the only boy I’ve ever truly loved. I didn’t know him long, and I haven’t seen him in years, but his memory remains within this poem.

There is a fire inside me.

A match, ready to be struck

lingering in the depths of me

under my skin,

maybe even

somewhere in my stomach

right below my heart

and right above

where your hands touched my waist,

when you were saying goodbye.


And it burns.


You set it off,

the match that’s

inside of me,

you and

only you.

The fire rages on,

unable to be put out.

You might be the only one

who can stop it,

yet you continue to feed it

with each new day.


And it burns.


I can’t tell

if it’s love,

or desire,

maybe it’s just

the pain I feel.

It might even be

a mix of the three,

all coming together

destined for disaster.


And it burns.


I never knew anyone

could start a fire this bad

without even knowing they

caused it,

but you did,

so you walked away,


leaving my insides to be eaten away

by your flames.


And it burns,

and burns,

and burns.

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