everything was hot to the touch but i didn’t know that i was flammable. no one had ever told me.I barely remember a grown man throwing a match into the tinder of my thighs when i was just a girl. so i went through life burning. i took big drags, i liked the slow burn. i let it drag out, let the tension twirl in the air between myself and everyone else. tension thrumming, burning a pleasurable hole in me, digging a grave in him. and him. and him. the way you find a weapon lying around somewhere and pick it up and suddenly feel powerful. only the weapon was inside me, and i wasn’t even aware of the trail of ash I left in my wake. and when the weapon had a name, i put it away, deep inside. where it lies now, dark and longing. sometimes, i take it out and polish it to a sheen. i’m sorry.