I'd evaporate under your touch

People used to call us water and fire because 

we were both stubborn and selfish. You’d grit 

your teeth when I smiled and I’d clench my 

fists when you laughed. Your presence was as 

annoying as the sun burning on my back with 

40 degrees outside and you despised me so 

much I could hear your heart beat with furiosity 

when I came too close. There was never enough 

personal space for the both of us because you 

weren’t worth the air I was breathing in and I 

wasn’t allowed to be in your sight. You called 

me burdened and I called you abandoned because 

I hated your guts but I could feel my bones 

collapse under your stare. There was fire in your 

eyes but I wasn’t scared of third degree burns 

the same way you weren’t scared of drowning. 

You were fire and I was water and your desire 

to burn me was as big as your desire to burn out.