Poetry

Combustion

“I wanted him.
And if I couldn’t have him,
I would spontaneously combust.”

It had been days since I’d felt his touch. And it was driving me insane. Like a fever. The only thing I had were moments that told me all I’d ever wanted in my life was him, and I was reaching my boiling point. I wanted to taste him, feel his lips move against mine. I wanted to feel his warm skin and revel in its softness. I wanted him. And if I couldn’t have him, I would spontaneously combust.

Seriously.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

It was only a matter of time.
And I could feel my fingertips
begin to singe.

Inspired by events that transpired
in my first novel, Just Breathe.

1 thought on “Combustion”

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