Flames

What is so wrong with me that I end up hurting everyone I come in contact with?

Every person, every soul ends up

tinged

tainted

tattered

Is it something in my blood?

Is there yet another chemical imbalance within my brain, creating every hopeful relationship I have with another person, only to mechanically turn it to dust?

No.

Not dust.

Messier.

Dust is simple and manageable. It can be handled with a damp paper towel.

Fire isn’t.

It begins and spreads at exponential rates.

The flames lick up the legs of all those within the premises,

crawling up towards my head.

The fire swallows me whole.

Though the searing hot fiery flame may no longer reside,

the burn marks lining our skin and the white walls around us remain.

Everything always turns to fire.

Every time

without failure

each human connection I have made

ends up in cobalt flames.

I try to take precautions.

I step on eggshells around those whom I love deeply,

those whom I wish not to burn.

If I begin to smell the smoke or hear the matches striking

I warn them.

But it never works.

“No, that won’t happen. I promise.”

“I am different than them, you know that. I care for you much too deeply.”

“You can’t hurt me, not anymore than life already has.”

They don’t listen.

They never do.

In the end, the result is always the same.

Two in flames

burning

burning

burning

burnt.