there is something inside of me that will always burn for you. it’s like my bones are embers; and every day since you left me, they burn less and it hurts less. i have scars from the times you got too close, burns all over my body that remind me that your idea of love is pain. i still can’t catch my breath from the oxygen that you stole to keep your fire ignited. you are an oxygen thief, your quick hands and charismatic smile. i didn’t realize that i had been holding my breath until the day you disappeared and the air surged from my mouth. it’s been three months, fourteen days, five hours, and twenty-one seconds since you left. and i am learning how to keep myself warm. but some nights, i look desperately for a spark in the pile of ashes that you left at my feet. because even on some nights, it is hard to stay warm on my own.