Flames of Love

-Written to the lyrics of “Maybe in Another LIfe” by Caitlyn Smith-

The new year had begun, and I was heartbroken. She was gone. 

She had worn the cashmere sweater and jean shorts, nikes and the bracelet I gave her at Christmas. 

She smelled like the perfume I had given her on our anniversary and her lips glittered in the gloss from her birthday present.

She had passed me a cigarette even though I had told her to quit it. And I smoked with her that night. The ball dropped in New York Square and you could hear the cheers from where we sat on the fire escape outside her window, about five miles from the celebration. The smoke from the cigarette made my eyes water and I had to put it down, I could hardly breathe. She laughed as I gave her the thing back and we stared at each other through the smoke. 

She was beautiful. 

And we kissed. In the smoke and cheers as the clock hit 12:01. 

Then she left. The fire in her soul was extinguished from my life, she had vanished and took her warmth with her. I never got to say goodbye. 

Sure we had really only started dating, but two months meant something. At least to me. 

I was driving in my car to get gas when I got the notification. I noticed a new post on her story and I brightened. It had been a week since she had vanished and I relaxed knowing she would soon respond to my hundreds of texts. 

The album cover of the song playing had bluegrass, a purple moon, and a lone house. She always told me she wanted to move out with me to the country. A view just like the one for Caitlyn Smith’s newest album. 

I put the nozzle in the tank and pulled out my phone while the gas fueled my truck. 

Then I dropped the nozzle, spilling gasoline onto the pavement. 

It was a picture of her with another guy. Don’t tell River ;) was the caption. 

I choked out a cry and held my hand over my mouth. I dropped my phone into the pool of oil and quickly fumbled to put the nozzle back in the gas tank. My hands shaking, I picked my phone back out of the fuel. Her face still remained untouched from the black liquid as my phone slowly dimmed, gasoline breaking the gadget. 

The fact that she had left without saying goodbye, without any thought of what we had done together. The times I’d held her close, or we laughed so hard we wept. 

Now it was like waking up to a ghost. She was gone. 

No she wasn’t gone, I had just seen her face. With another man. 

I left the gas station quickly, my boots on the passenger seat floor due to the gas. My car stunk like fuel, further ingraining the sick reality deeper into my mind. I got to my apartment and stalked up to the door in my socks. I left my boots and phone in the car. I couldn’t look at them right now. I couldn't take gasoline right now. 

A box of cigarettes she had introduced me to lay on the counter and I slapped them to the floor. She sure had been entranced with the thought of fire. The concept and the thing itself wound its way throughout her actions. 

She had even burned my heart with her touch, leaving it scarred. 

Everything had felt so real, our love was so real. I could’ve been her boy, could’ve been her man. 

I punched the kitchen counter, and immediately regretted it. But what had I done wrong? Where did I mess up? Tears rolled down my face and I slowly crumpled to the cold tile floor, clutching my throbbing fist. 

I could still see her from all our dates, her amber eyes. I could still feel her warm hands, her blushing face, reddened lips, red hot hair. Her flared eyeliner and dimpled cheeks. I could still smell the husky scent of her cigarettes, the sour shampoo turned sweet in her hair, the candles she sent me every celebration. I could still hear the endless nights of karaoke, her dry coarse voice after a smoke, her tinkling laugh. 

It had been a week since that day. I had burned almost every match in the place and pieces of wood lay scattered across the table. Small burned marks spotted the table from when I dropped the matches in pain after letting the flame get to low. My fingertips were sensitive and raw after being licked by the small fires I had struck. 

She still was in my head. 

My friends had stopped by every day, bringing me food and having me eat. If it weren’t for them I probably would’ve just stayed at the table all day and all night, trying to burn the image of her and another guy out of mind. 

But I couldn’t do it. 

Her departure had been so abrupt, so sudden. Her picture had been so recent, so haunting. 

Maybe in another life we could’ve been together. Maybe she wouldn’t have left. Maybe I’d at least know why. 

My fist still hurt from the punch upon the counter from a week ago. I had bandaged myself messily, I didn’t care. My hand throbbed barely more than my heart did, almost as red the fires of our love was. At least I thought our love was unstoppable. 

I could still remember our first date. 

The forest fire in the news buzzed in the background. I was delivering pizzas for extra cash. This order had been one of pepperoni and red chile. Hot and spicy. I rang the doorbell and was instantly answered by a beautiful girl. I stuttered as I repeated the order. She laughed and called me hon. She invited me in. She switched the channel and we sat on the couch watching Water and Fire. She laid against my shoulder. I had never been so shocked and happy. It had been so sudden and so perfect. 

We had taken a polaroid together. 

That polaroid now laid a pile of ashes amongst the other dates we’d been on. 

Maybe in another life I would be okay.