We Called Ourselves a Wildfire and Got Burned in the End

Prose Poetry

Photo by João Barbosa on Unsplash

Honey, don’t look so sad — we tried to fix the tears and bruises with heartbeat healing, but love isn’t something you can mend so easily like a rip in fabric.

(your hand in mine feels like a rock trying to weigh the both of us down)

I called you lover that first summer, but our hearts were still strangers to each other. The only thing I knew for sure was that your kiss made me feel more alive than anything.

(you wanted a ring, but I lied and said I couldn’t afford it)

Those months when we learned the other’s flaws passed like leaves falling in the breeze. Our arguments could have burnt fields to ash and destroyed lives. Passion — when did it start to seem like a curse?

(you swore it was over, but I didn’t believe you)

Now I take to the shore and wade into water so clear that nothing’s hidden to the eye. It makes me wonder why we went so deep and almost drowned. We couldn’t have saved each other even if that had been our most fervent wish.

(you may have been the best and worst thing to happen to me)

The air’s cold without you, but I’ll survive this winter of the soul.