1.7.18 | 1:57 am

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I want a cigarette but I don't have an ashtray.
I don't want to just be someone's quick cigarette break.
I want to set a fire in an organ other than your lungs.
I want us to kindle it, huddle in close for warmth, watch the embers dance into the night sky, where stars are jealous of us.
What I'm trying to say is, I don't want to be a forest fire anymore.
I don't want to destroy everything in my reach; everything too good and pure and worthy of growth without the hindrance of my scarlet flames.
I don't want everything my fingertips touch to be reduced to a pile of rubbled ash.
I don't want to ruin what is actually good for me.
I don't want to be the cause of a catastrophe.
I don't want to be someone's cigarette break,
I don't want to be a forest fire anymore,
I want to set a fire in someone's heart,
but I don't want to get burned.









I love you, but if you don't love me, please tap out my ashes on the brink of falling and burn me out. 

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