Member-only story
My Smoke, Your Fire
A Prose Poem
it was supposed to be casual, a one-time thing, the motion of skin meeting skin like tinder to spark — but we met in shadows, silhouettes dancing before we ever even touched.
it was supposed to be a moment, perhaps a kiss brushed against a palm, the sanctum of whispers shared over drinks — but our smiles were our betrayals of something more brewing in the gaps of silence.
it was supposed to be quick, a flurry, lightning striking once and nevermore — but we lingered too long, our truths coming out in gasps of promises we thought we had no intention of keeping.
it was supposed to be the way of ships passing beside each other under moonlight’s spotlight, there one moment and gone the next in one gliding skim of water, too ethereal to be captured under the light of sun — but we were slow, left exposed to what morning would bring when we awakened beside each other in the wrinkled sheets.
it was supposed to be us in the temporary sense — not us in the method of conjoining, of trading life stories, of slipping into each other’s circles of existence.
it was supposed to be a blaze left to sputter out — but we stoked the makings of the inferno, me the smoke that could not be grasped but you the fire that would keep me grounded in the ashes to come.
