August 12, 2024
It was three in the morning when you asked me that question. Joint on our lips, your feet swaying to the music,the thing I remember most is how you twisted from me when you asked "Why don't you live?". Not why I dont't want to. I looked over your shoulder to see blue zinnias blooming in space, spinning like planets, making me dizzy. If I didn't know better, I would've thought I was high.
You told me I look at the moon too much, I told you was only waiting for her to one day stare back. You looked at me like I was crazy, and I was, my feet floating five inches above the earth, eyes full of majestic creatures dancing in ritualistic visions. Your fear of my fire only fueled it further, flinching limbs and something akin to terror on your face made it all the sweeter for me to rise even higher. I wanted to be ten feet tall, break the asphalt under me when I walked, forever grounded by my own rage, my disgust, my outrage, walk the streets through the shadows as a monster would.
Your hand on my arm still felt like a paperweight, I remember how you laughed. I remember how I didn't answer your question, and I remember why. Oh, how it would've been easy to be that monster. But, fire unleashed, what would remain of me would not be the fear, it wouldn't be the cracked asphalt, or that strange look on your face, I would only be the blue zinnia.
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