Figure It Out Later
Never has there been a face so prominent in one's mind that they feel they have to discover the hidden masterpieces within each crevice of the hand belonging to that face.
What I left was erasable. Washable. Easily rid.
What you left is burned into my skin; branded into every memory of heat and light.
I can not begin to fathom the difference that composes my particles or yours, but I can fathom the constellations they could create together.
When people think of fire, they think of some form of obliteration.
When I think of fire, I think of the cosmos composed of every spark that has completely consumed your mind with reverence.
And maybe there's a possibility that I was the first hint of a spark. but you created this wildfire all on your own.