Finding Fire

Teeth gritted, eyes unfocused, palms sweaty

Tongue stuck to the bottom of a leathery throat,

heart clenching like your fist when you first feel the pain.

It burns, leaves scars

Destroys all in its path

And still you love finding fire.

Its warmth, its colour,

its deadly beauty consumes your mind like the flames that devour and leave nothing untouched.

A concoction of muddled emotions

You love it but you shouldn’t

You’ll never stop finding fire;

it’s as if you’ve become immune to it.

None of us can touch it like you can

None of us actively seek fire

But you say that it doesn’t burn,

that there is no pain,

that it’s all in our heads

It’s not the fire you’re thinking of, you say.