Put Me Out

A slow burning, like embers smoldering from a fire dying hours ago—

that is how you leave me.

 

I am the embers and you are the oxygen

feeding the fire and snuffing it out all at once.

 

You are like the wind,

blowing softly across my skin

and leaving a trail of sensation in your wake.

 

I'm standing with my arms wide,

questioning,

wondering,

ready for the embrace,

but unsure of where I'll land.

 

I try to turn my back to your wind,

but the burning—

that burning leaves clouds of smoke

where you once stood

and I realize it's the fire that

I really crave.

 

I keep waiting for the final strike of the match—

waiting for the explosion of fire that follows,

but I wonder if it will light up our worlds

or swallow everything in the flames instead.

 

 

 

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