Blood pulsates under every syllable
The pulse lights flames in the veins of skin that bruises easily
She is soft to the touch
Tender with healing scars
The heat of anger
A familiar stench of scorched wood
Breaking and brittle
Ash and dust- remnants of realisation blow into the wind
Well fanned rumours
-Murmurs of the truth
Set aflame
Only she would die
Because to see past the veil is merely a reminder
Of lessons learnt and burned into memory
In the wave of emotion
How easily we forget
Lies we tell in the night
For a naive and hopeful tomorrow
Still burning
Always burning
The fire
Is still her religion
Dancing with fireworks
She craves the danger
In the right light
She beams
But all running on empty fuel ever did was stall what was always written
War-torn aftermath
The damage is her salvation
But She lives again
She loves again
Always for the lingering glimmer
Always for dawning of the sunset
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