Together We Burn

Entry #1

March 3rd, 2024 – 2:47 a.m.

I wasn’t going to write about him again.

But he’s the only thing on my mind. Again.

Two years, two weeks, five days.

1138 fights, 334 ignored messages, 4 breakups.

And still counting.

He calls me annoying. I call him frustrating.

But we’re still here. Still burning.

Society calls it toxic.

But society doesn’t sleep in his arms when the rain won’t stop.

They don’t know the smell of tulips soaked into a Pandora bottle.

The way he whispers my name like a promise

Even when he just finished yelling.

They don’t see the side I see.

The soft one. The broken one.

The boy I fell for before he became this man.

⸻

Entry #6

March 20th, 2024 – 11:03 p.m.

I met up with an old high school friend today,

who happened to smell like Dior.

We hugged before I had to rush back home.

...

He hates Dior.

I didn’t mean to start anything.

But he caught the scent the moment I walked in.

His jaw tightened. That twitch beneath his left eye.

He doesn’t wear Dior.

He slammed the door. I broke a plate.

He left.

I cried.

But he came back, holding that stupid book I like.

Read to me under the candlelight.

Soft voice. Strong hands.

He apologized. Said I was pushing his buttons.

Said love is messy.

Said this is normal.

Said I make him crazy.

Isn’t that what love is?

⸻

Entry #11

April 14th, 2024 – 3:18 a.m.

He grabbed me tonight.

Not hard. Not really.

Just enough to stop me from walking away.

His nails dug into my arm.

I bled a little.

But I shouldn’t have said what I said.

Shouldn’t have worn that lipstick.

The one he says makes me look “too available.”

Still.

When I looked up at him — eyes furious, chest heaving —

I saw the boy who cried when I told him about my father.

The boy who kisses the corners of my mind

and tells me I’m the only one who gets him.

He says no one will ever love me like he does.

Maybe he’s right.

⸻

Entry #13

April 22nd, 2024 – 11:39 p.m.

I walked past the mirror today

and didn’t recognize myself.

Not because of the bruises —

I’ve gotten good at covering those —

but because I smiled

when he said he wouldn’t let me go.

And I meant it.

I smiled.

Maybe it’s trauma bonding.

Maybe it’s love.

Maybe I don’t care anymore

what name they give it.

He says I calm the chaos.

But what does that make me?

A remedy? A bandage? A fool?

⸻

Entry #15

May 2nd, 2024 – 12:02 a.m.

I locked the door today.

Just wanted a breath.

He banged. Shouted.

Then whispered through the crack: “Please.”

I let him in.

He didn’t touch me.

Just curled up beside me, quiet. Like a child.

Said I’m his light.

Said I make him better.

Said no one else could love his kind of broken.

And I believed him.

God help me, I still do.

I believe him like a prayer I can’t stop repeating.

⸻

Entry #18

May 14th, 2024 – 1:11 a.m.

I dreamt I was underwater.

Not drowning — just floating.

Alone. Peacefully numb.

When I woke up, he was watching me.

Said I talk in my sleep.

Asked who Caleb was.

I don’t know a Caleb.

He didn’t believe me.

Punched the wall beside my head.

Didn’t touch me. Just… warned me.

Later, he kissed my forehead like nothing happened.

Made breakfast. Played my favorite song.

I didn’t eat. But I smiled.

He called me dramatic. Said I was lucky he stayed.

Said I’d fall apart without him.

Maybe he’s right.

I don’t remember who I was before him.

Just flashes —

laughter with friends,

late-night singing,

the feeling of being whole.

He says I’m too emotional.

Too much.

Maybe I was always too much.

And now I’m just... enough for him.

⸻

Entry #21

May 23rd, 2024 – 9:43 p.m.

My friends say I’m disappearing.

They say I’m quieter now. Faded. Not like myself.

But they don’t see how he remembers the playlist he made me.

How he panics when I cry.

Even if he’s the reason I cry.

They say I flinch too often.

That I defend him like a soldier.

That I check my phone like it’s a bomb.

They don’t get it.

It’s not abuse.

It’s just intense.

Anthony and Cleopatra. Bonnie and Clyde.

Joker and Harley.

Mad love.

Right?

⸻

Entry #27

June 7th, 2024 – 1:04 a.m.

He said he’d die without me.

Said if I ever left, he’d make sure I didn’t forget him.

Ever.

He was holding a lighter.

Not close. Not threatening. Just… holding.

I didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Later, he laughed it off.

But the look in his eyes wasn’t a joke.

That look haunted me all night.

Still does.

⸻

Entry #30

June 14th, 2024 – 4:29 a.m.

I looked at my bruises.

Didn’t flinch.

I’ve learned to say sorry for things I didn’t do.

I’ve learned to stay small.

Quiet.

Careful.

I saw my mother.

And hers.

When did love become survival?

When did I stop writing poems

and start writing excuses?

Tonight I lit a match.

Just to watch the flame.

To remember

what power feels like.

I used to love fire as a child.

Now I crave it.

⸻

Final Entry

June 15th, 2024 – 3:02 a.m.

The house is quiet.

He’s asleep.

I’m barefoot in the kitchen

Holding a box of matches.

My hands are cold. My heartbeat isn’t.

I’m shaking.

But not from fear.

He said I’d never leave.

Said I’d die loving him.

Said we’d go out together

if it came to that.

Maybe we will.

Maybe I’ll light the match.

Maybe this is how we end —

in fire, in madness, in smoke.

Because love shouldn’t taste like medicine.

And I’m tired of treating my wounds

with the same hands that caused them.

“I am yours,

You are mine.

In the end,

It’s you and I,”

He once said.

If I burn, we burn.

But this time,

I light the fire.