I remember how I used to love the way my body would burst into flames when you walked into the room – a ferocious fever possessing me.
I remember your careless whispers and the way your eyes begged for my forgiveness while my lips imprisoned stifled screams.
I remember that I used to love the way your arms felt like home when inside I felt storms brewing.
I remember how your eyes kept secrets, buried deep down where I couldn’t see. I remember how your lips, soaked in lies, told me everything I wanted to hear.
I remember you used to say we were impossible,
& maybe you were right.
© Gina Jenkins