Red and yellow and orange ribbons of scalding heat danced across the darkened sky brightening it with the life of a devil's smile. Fire was hell, but small. Fire was like a hand reaching up into the sky, into my heart, thawing it, warming it, burning it to dusty ashes blowing through the wind trying to find you. And once the ashes found you, Fire sizzled as it picked at my skin, tearing my chest open to bare my soul to you beneath this crystal filled sky.
Every colour painted the sky with solid strokes in an attempt to recreate a beauty unknown to men. Men have always taken advantage of beauty such as the sparkling ribbon sliding across the everlasting sea of blue above. But you were different. You stood under the arch in the sky while the smallest of diamonds fell upon your face and sparkled in the rays of light surrounding your magnificent form. No wonder I let you in to see the real me, to see the butterflies exploding from my stomach with every step you took in my direction.
The colossal inferno burned bright in the sky blistering those who got too close. I had a theory about that: She was hurt, and She didn't want to be hurt again. But unlike She, the ball of fire lighting our world daily for underappreciating eyes, I wanted to be hurt again- but only if you were the culprit to shrivel my pride, reopen my scar tissue, and dig your nails into my trusting brain full of sunshine. And I was oh so right to trust you. You were the halo to fill the darkness I left behind just as the glinting moon did every night for She who shines too brightly.
You were the fire that lit up my already shining eyes. You were Fire.
