i was never a slow burner of a girl. i was a beach bonfire, with glowing embers carried by the sea breeze. the one that laughed when my marshmallows caught on fire, the one to play with the candles till my fingers got black from the ashes, the one with a woolen sweater reeking of burnt wood. i have never been bothered by getting my fingers burnt because i’ve always loved to play with fire. the thrill of dancing with the flickering flame. because what do you do when the devil asks you to dance? you give him your hand. again and again and again. that’s what you do for love. and i think i’ve fallen in love with having blisters on my fingers.
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