There’s a fire. You rush out of bed and take another layer of rubber off my already bald tires. I wonder what you would do if the tire blows. Probably steal your brothers bike to get there.

Fire-fighting hero. Can’t get enough of the rush. Come home smelling of peoples burning lives. Houses in ruin. Possessions turned to ashes. You have been lucky. No burning bodies. No death smell on you yet. I dread the days to come.

Your soul is beautiful and tender. You’re my sweet, beautiful love. I don’t want to see their corpses reflected in your eyes. I am selfish. They don’t matter to me. You do.

I tell myself that when we have children you will keep your promise. You will quit. I know it isn’t true. You are brave. You have to prove it to him.

Father.

Fire-fighter.

Fighter.

Fire.

Failure.

 

But only to him,

Never to me.

That’s all it takes. Fuel, heat, and room to breathe.