One
The first time my mother told me not to touch a fire,
I did not believe that something so beautiful could hurt me.
One
The first time I touched a fire,
some synapse collapsed in my mind and I knew
never to reach for a glowing thing again.
One
The first time your lips met mine it was as if we were ablaze.
It was creating a new color from the fire in our eyes,
and I knew this is what we had been waiting for.
One
The first time I knew regret I curled up into nothing.
Promised to never forget the weight of words
merged with anger,
or the weight of your silence after.
One
The first time I knew death I tried to write a poem about it.
But words were too alive to wrap themselves around something as painful.
I lit a fire in the dark like it meant something.
One
I never understood how your words hold so much more weight
than any words I’ve heard.
You look at the world like
One
The first time I knew I was alive I spent all day staring at myself
in the mirror, not believing that I too would someday go.
That someday I would stop burning,
leaving only ashes as the only proof I existed.
One
I mean to continue, but I always get stuck on
One