My body is on fire. The only words I can use to describe the feeling I have.
Fire. My chest is burning from holding back the tears that have built up over the one week you have been gone. A leaking dam, my will to not cry is failing me. My body screams at me to let myself go, but I fight back the tears. One deep breath, two deep breath, three deep breath; move on.
Fire. The anger I feel at your ability to walk away so easily. I am the exploding bomb. You are the action movie star that doesn’t even look back at the disaster zone behind him. Doesn’t think to check on the casualties, the people fighting to survive, the screaming going on behind his cool and calm walk. Stroll away, we can survive without you…I think.
Fire. My brain going into overdrive. Overthinking, over analyzing, over…its over. The constant linger of you haunts my every move, my every thought. Go away! Make it stop! I could scream at my thoughts all day long but they enjoy the torment.
Fire. The burning desire to crawl back. To make all the pain go away simply by just pretending that we were perfect. Perfect to go back to; the perfect way to douse the fire eating me alive. The easy answer that would inevitably spark the fire yet again months from now after another realization that we weren’t perfect; not even close.
Fire. It’s hot, it burns, it licks up everything it gets it’s flaming paws on. The pain that it creates; it tells you that you are alive. You feel. You hurt. You live. Fire is strong. It’s brilliant colours, incredible heat and its ability to leave a lingering smoke long after the fire’s been put out. Be fire; be strong.