The Afterglow

The Anatomy of Desire — Act I

The flames took what they could—

the walls I built to feel safe,

the certainty I clung to,

the versions of myself that begged

to be allowed to stay.

But in the ashes,

I found something almost holy:

a pulse that refused to die,

a quiet insistence that there was still more

of me left to become.

There is a certain beauty in ruin

when you rise from it willingly—

when you gather what remains,

hold it to the light,

and realize it still beats.

Scars become scripture.

Proof.

Testament.

A reminder that I survived the burning

and somehow,

even after everything,

still learned

how to burn for love.