I am afraid.
Don’t you know what you’re asking of me?
When you get burned, even warm water feels hot
Here I am, running through fire.
Don’t tell me I don’t love you just because I am afraid.
Yes, I am afraid of getting burned.
Parts of my skin are still tinged with ash.
Scars are part of my landscape, and I will never look the same.
But can’t you see me here, running through fire for you?
Read more of my poetry.