12 and 20
20 years ago we came together in a crash. Not the fleeting shower of hammer sparks on forge-hot steel, but a violent explosion. A Supernova that raged, blinding and burning everything for light years. We burned with the selfish infatuation and desire of youth. We danced across blackened earth, heedless of all but the feel of our lips on skin and fingers on flesh. With you, I learned the ecstasy of losing myself in hunger. In need. I drank deeply and couldn't get enough.
Our beginning was also an ending of sorts. A cataclysm that destroyed the people we were. The fire reshaped us into something new. Left us changed. We have navigated the Wild Wood and have come out the other side. We aren't the kids we were. We have learned along the way that passion ignites, but it is care and attention that feeds the fire.
12 years ago we made a Promise that we knew in our hearts the night of the Cataclysm. I did not that a heart could break with joy until that moment. It has broken many times thus. Our fire has continued to grown in ways we thought we were ready for, but still could not anticipate. It sometimes leaves us spread thin and flickering on the coals, with little energy to tend to each other.
Still.
I still burn for you. Did you know that? Just for you. My fingers still itch to trace your spine when you stand at the sink in the morning. I still distract myself with thoughts of exploring every inch of you in painstaking detail. 20 years after the Cataclysm. 12 years after the Promise. My fire is yours. Always.
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Fear