The Forbidden Flame

I never knew the pain. That dangerous, burning, scorching pain. I was raised to be cautious; being mindful of how I bring myself. I guess you could say I was too grounded for my liking. I never knew what it was like to be adventurous, daring, or even rebellious. As I grew older I became more and more guarded. My heart was in a strong cage because it was fragile like a piece of chinaware.

It started in high school; the embers started to glimmer and shine. For months I thought no guy would ever consider looking my way or even having one ounce of attraction towards me. At one point, I thought it was real—until I realized how it felt to be taunted, used, and unfortunately flawed. I believed that there was nothing good in love for me to even have. I grew to hate things that required a loving pair then. From Valentines Day to the Promposals, I never knew the feeling. Until senior year; I became more confident in myself and open to new things.

That's when I met Him. I considered him to be a more attractive, yet mature guy. He had what I was attracted to at least—minimal tattoos, brown eyes, and very confident demeanor. I was shy of course, but as days turned into weeks, the flame started to emerge. One day, He commented on how nice my hair looked, and then my eyes and the way I dressed. It wasn't long until he told me how he really liked me. Minutes later after me taunting and joking with him because I thought he was just joking, he then said he would kiss me right now.

Later that day, he did kiss me and I didn't stop him. The kiss itself felt like a numbing drug that I wanted more of. This kiss was nothing that I ever felt before and I couldn't get enough of it. Each day I wanted more of him and I craved the flame he gave to me more and more. It wasn't long until I felt like I would even see him when he wasn't even around me. Having a dream about him lying next to me would shock a sleeping girl out of her sleep.

It wasn't long until he introduced me to new things... intimately. I was very cautious about what we did but the flames he would give me made things seem more good than bad. I lusted for his touch, his voice, even his dominance. It had gotten to a point where I went somewhere with no turning back. He created—no we created—something together that we had to hide from others around us. We were rebellious of the flames we've come to spark. But with all good things, came the bad.

I was curious about if I was blinded to a truth he didn't want me to know. And my conscience was right because it turns out I was never the "only" girl to him. He claimed his love for a shy, naive version of what I considered to be my old self. Two and half years he wasted for pure lust. I never wanted to accept it but when pieces were being put together, the burning pain started to emerge. The scorching, itching, seeping, pain of the flames that burned inside me. He caused this to happen and he knew what I had to fight for to be the person I am today.

To this day he chases after an old snuffed out flame, one I said would never have burning embers or rekindlement happen ever again. I accepted the fact that I was severely burned by the flames we started. At one point I was going to accept that I would not even love again. Everything changed then; an old light glimmered for me as the time when on. The newfound light that is healing me every day with his words, humor, protection, and honesty.

The words he writes to me that expressed his love for me gave me new flames. At one point I shed tears of relief from the flames, tears of finally hearing that a person truly had this new foreign glimpse of real love for me.