the fire that remains

Blonde, glitter, and blue
but do you truly see her,
or only the phantom you’ve carved from your own desire?
No past, no future,
just this present
a dangerous hunger you can’t name aloud

You want her
She feels it coil between words,
in the sharp pause of your breath,

subtle glances and smiles,
in the touch you give and steal away
before it can scorch

A taste denied,
because you are already claimed

Her name slides like venom from your tongue,
but never the one
who waits in silence,
the one who believes you’re hers

"You’re a bad girl, I know”

what ruin would you risk
if she were yours?
Is it her you chase,
or the chaos she carries,
the unraveling you secretly crave?

Reality would break you,
but fiction devours sweetly,
and you always choose the poison
that keeps you alive

She is real
not a dream,
not a hollow body for you to bend

She bleeds, she burns, she resists

And still,
you conjure her

A flame too close to the bone,
a wound you press just to feel

She is not salvation
she is destruction,
and you want her anyway

.

.

.

to be continued…