I thought you would be my best friend for the rest of my life,
But moments in between the lines I felt the spark of your fire
It was warm to the touch and thawed my frozen hands
But I did not feel the pain
I didn’t see the red scars
I didn’t know I was burning
Until the smoke filled my lungs
And the ashes blinded my eyes.
You did not see me as another fire
But the sticks that would keep you alive
Until this scorched heart
Became so distorted
That it was the object of my own despise.
I thought that the day I ran away
I would never again feel the searing pain
But I had only taken one step
When you screamed the threat
That me leaving you would be your last breath.
And that was the final flame that engulfed my mind
The fear that made me petrified.
And in those seconds before I replied,
I knew that I had to decide if this would be
Just another one of your lies.
Would I have to stay a slave to your fire?
And now months later, I see you in the hall.
A fake laugh and forced hello is all.
The residue of bitterness remains inside my frame.
And it’s because of that night,
that final flame,
that I will never be the same.
But I must thank you for this change.
You taught me how to speak above a whisper.
That I do not have to be in chains
To spread warmth through another’s veins.
You taught me how to stand tall
Against the desire to become small
That I do not have to be the wood.
I too can become fire.