burning endless

We are the sharp edge of a blade,
cutting into the silence
where love should have been soft.
You press against me,
not with touch but with presence,
filling the cracks
I tried to seal with reason.

I have felt you in places
I cannot bear to admit.
You are in the hollow of my chest,
in the twist of my gut,
in the spaces your voice lingers
longer than it should.
You unravel me like a storm
tearing through everything
I thought was mine to hold.

I ache for the moments
when you almost say it,
when your words fracture
just before they touch the air.
It is in those broken pieces
that I live,
in the weight of what you hold back,
and the echo of what you leave behind.

We are not fragile.
We are the collision of stars,
violent, burning,
scorching what we cannot protect.
I wear you in my silence,
in the spaces where breathing falters,
in the pieces of myself
I no longer recognise.

If I could tear us apart,
I would not.
The pain of you
is the only thing
that feels alive.
Even when you are not here,
you are here,
etched into my skin,
heavy in my veins,
pulling me into the place
where only we exist.

Would you call this home,
or are we the kind of fire
that feeds on itself,
burning bright, burning endless,
until there is nothing left
but smoke and memory?