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first love

If I could title this thing that we had, I would label this chaos the tragic story of a love that was unrequited and lost, or so I thought. And you smell of danger, every time that you are near I can feel this insane attraction to you, and I hate it. I hate that at any moment you could expose me and my true feelings, but I also know that you know that I am far too strong to be taken down so easily. You reek of danger, I can smell the oil and fire mixed into your clothes and if we touch we will both explode, and I hate you so much for this, because I don't want to be exposed. It's the chase that thrills me most and I'm sure that it is the same for you. It has always been this way between us, a fiery, explosive, insane combination of two completely different people who are combustible. I am not submissive...... And you can never figure me out, and this is terrifying for you, and I like that, is this what makes me so attractive to you? You are predictable and I can read you like a book, but your predictability is fresh to me....... For some reason it excites me and this insane attraction that I have to your destructive hurricane of bullsh*t will destroy me if I get too close because like I said your patterns are predictable,  but I can't control you. And you will never control me. We are fire and fire, combined we can burn down cities of emotions leaving trails of dust and famine in the aftermath. But I am so insanely attracted to you and that rush of energy that is between us is so thick in the air that everyone around us can feel it no matter how far away from each other that we stay. And you refuse to look me in the eyes, and I am afraid that you will see me, and how I really feel behind this stoic wall of glass. So I keep myself from you and try to avoid spreading the wildfire by suppressing emotions, but they are too raw to be contained and too unstable to be ignored. I refuse to entertain what I cannot have, but I am addicted to the chase. But if I reap the prize of you, I will have received a bitter harvest, because you are my enemy. A stranger that I love, and hate, and despise, and loathe.  At one point we were each other’s salvation, freedom from the oppressive society. I was your breath of fresh air, and you, you were my protection, a safe house where I hid my emotions. Out of destruction, we created something so beautiful and raw. And if I could freeze those moments I would make them timeless and have only that memory of you burned into my brain, instead of the image that you are now. I wish that I could love you safely, but your fire burned away my safety net and turned it into survival, we will eventually destroy each other with our needs. So the genre of our love story would be a tragedy, a sorrowful tune of lust and love, desire and need and an unquenchable fire that never stopped burning.