I cannot dissemble my broken heart
and let the pieces become the sticks
used to make a bonfire
to keep you warm.

I am so accustomed to the cold,
but you do not even look
my way
as I shiver
in the dark.

I stare up at the stars
to distract myself,
trying to remember
why I thought they would align

for us
mere mortals.

Did you ever
want
to start a fire
just for us?

Down by the sea,
where we could
take in its beauty,
and hold each other?

Did you ever
want
for us

to create
a world
of our own?

Is the only reason your fire doesn’t burn
because you’ve been left out in the cold,
and now my warmth is oppressive?

Are you scared
of wanting something
so good?

Because you learnt
that yes, fire warms the heart,
but that it burns.

I learnt from the same textbook,
read the same pages,
but my story went differently.

I kept giving warmth away
to others,
who I can see only
in the light of day
cannot give me the same back.

I thought my love
for you
could overcome
any chill.

But the night is cold,
so I need to protect
my warmth,

keep it to myself.
The bonfires on the beach
were never meant to last.

I pour a cold bucket

over this beach bonfire
and walk off, warming up

already.