she ran down the cobblestone steps before I could catch her. hair of wild fire, lips stained blue with something like berries. poison. berries. half-expected to find her sprawled across the floor at the bottom of those steps, body crumpled under the archway, a bird shot out of mid-air. but no, she left a streak of red across my vision; head on fire, she was a strange parody of a matchstick, animated, slender. a part of me feels bitter, my mouth filling with the taste of anger and loss. she won’t be back again. I fantasize about ripping out chunks of her hair, but the brutality is uncalled for and in any case, the fiery strands slip though my fingers. Even in my mind, every part of her is like water. Liquid flame, scarring upon contact. I couldn’t help but touch even though her breath was butane. Play with fire and you’ll soon find yourself ablaze.
/ I stole a lot of imagery from The Hunger Games series, but this piece has nothing to do with it at all, really! /