Wicked Flame

The world was burning long before I met you.
But somehow, when you walked in, the fire stopped feeling like destruction
and started feeling like warmth.

It’s strange, isn’t it—
the way desire turns rational people into wanderers,
following shadows that look like hope
and calling it love.

I never meant to fall for you.
I told myself I wouldn’t—
that nothing good survives the touch of longing,
that hearts like mine bruise too easily,
and hearts like yours never stay.

But you smiled, and suddenly I was dreaming again.

What a wicked game it is
to let someone believe in futures they’ll never hold.
To say nothing and still make them feel everything.
To let your silence sound like promise,
your distance like destiny.

I swear I didn’t plan to love you.
And you—
you never planned to love me either.
Maybe that’s the tragedy.
Or maybe that’s why it hurts so beautifully.

The truth is:
I don’t want to fall in love,
not when the world keeps breaking the things I cherish—
and yet here I am,
falling straight into your gravity
like a fool who refuses to learn.

Because even if nobody loves no one—
even if we’re all just drifting stories
touching for a moment and tearing apart—
I still felt something real when you looked at me.
Something dangerous.
Something sacred.

And maybe that’s the wickedest part of all—
that I would still choose the fire
even knowing it will burn.

by Onnaya