Ignite

They knew I was dangerous when they watched me engulf the flames of hell and make them my home.

They burnt my flowers down, I crave to see their madness once they see that they grew back with thorns. They should have made sure the heavens weren't on my side when they killed me, for I have returned in devils form to claim vengeance for the girl I used to be.

Years of torture have led to a fixation on calculated revenge, I have forgotten to live... and love. I was taught that I was unlovable, a monster incapable of loving. I began to believe love was much like sand, an unattainable something which would slip through my fingers the moment I tried to grasp it. I have built up walls of concrete, I caged that strange organ in the centre of my chest to protect myself, because it stands as a weakness. But it is melting, melting, melting, my defences are crumbling, my heart is beating. It is strange, dangerous. No one has ever dealt with love without getting their hands burnt.

But now my battered heart gnaws its way out my body, pouncing into my stained hands, begging, pleading, falling on its damn knees as it whispers, don't be selfish, give me away.

I looked in his eyes and something in the universe shifted.

I do not know when the matter slipped out my hands.