you convinced me anyone who dared approach my heart would crawl back battered, their skin coated with deep gashes and their body aching with violet bruises. you made my words out to be bullets from a firing tongue, deeming their only purpose was to wound — but it was your hand resting on the trigger, beckoning the stinging venom that spilled from my mouth. a child who is born in a burning house believes the entire world is on fire, and i do not know who i am if not the ashes from your flames.