You came like a spark,
too quick,
too hot,
your hands on my skin
felt like fire—
but your touch was never warm,
just a burn,
a fleeting heat
that faded faster than it ignited.

I let you in,
gave you every part of me,
every kiss,
every breath,
thinking you’d stay,
thinking this was real.
But you only wanted the chase,
the thrill of something temporary,
a body to conquer
and then leave behind.

In the dark,
your whispers were sweet,
but empty—
a promise you never meant,
words that slipped from your mouth
like they were rehearsed,
never true.
I felt your hands all over me,
but they never truly touched me,
not the way you said they would.

I wanted you
in ways that made me forget
I was only a game to you,
an easy rush to fill your need,
your hunger for something
to hold until it wasn’t new anymore.
I burned for you,
but you were never the flame—
just the smoke
that faded away the moment I reached for more.

And when it ended,
I was left in the silence,
your name still hot on my lips,
but nothing else—
just the aftermath,
the emptiness
of something I gave too much to,
to someone who never cared enough
to stay.