We are.
We are still children, playing with fire.
You blithely talked to me for the first time when I was an uncouth fellow, grasping to the reality that someone as astounding as you chose me.
When you came, I felt the world burn. You simply made your way into my closed doors by telling me details about your life through innumerable telephone calls whilst my silent acquiescence.
You cried narrating how clumsily you slipped from skating on the icy lake during your 12th birthday. You bickered on how you had fun burning an adult-fiction book with your friends in the middle of the woods. And sullen from how your exes broke off with you ridiculously.
I listened to every reminisced moment. It was amiable and somehow assured seeing how you easily get vulnerable while speaking to me.
But no matter how much I felt happy knowing that I was trustworthy enough for you to expose your sentiments, it was frustrating. I couldn't hold you every time you were defenseless-- spilling downpour of emotions while you break down thousands of miles away to where I was. I wasn't a person who upholds honorable bits of advice, so I decided to stay silent, woefully hearing you murmur in tears.
Of course, we started seeing each other. All those late-night conversations and singing romance songs paid off, as you said yes when I asked. We started seemingly too strong, like newly lit candlesticks and fireworks, we sparked hastily-- then we separated.
It was understandable, we were children in our thirteen-year-old psyche. We didn't know anything. Our perception of love was different.
Then we met again years later at a mutual friend's group. I thought it was right timing as I was in distress with college when you suddenly asked how I was after such a long time.
I felt the world burn just like before. My fingers glowed warmly in my dark room as I composed a reply. We hit again, like two igniting stones waiting for the sparks to flare up. I kindled into you, and so did you. The unlit fire of our failed teenage love sparkled into a much bigger flame.
Our once immature love mixed perfectly like sulfur and charcoal.
We danced like wisps of fire flickering endlessly in the inferno, delighting each other's warmth.
Yet, we were blind, unfledged to realize that for pleasure, we were slowly burning ourselves from each other to strengthen our deathly fervor.
Unluckily,
we couldn't handle it anymore.
Our short-lived romance ended up disintegrating.
From ember to cinder, but from ashes to ashes we went again.
We are.
We are still children, playing with fire.
