Fire on Fire

My mother said I'm too romantic

She said, "You're dancing in the movies"

I almost started to believe her

Then I saw you and I knew

Maybe it's 'cause I got a little bit older

Maybe it's all that I've been through

I'd like to think it's how you lean on my shoulder

And how I see myself with you

I don't say a word

But still, you take my breath and steal the things I know

There you go, saving me from out of the cold

Fire on fire would normally kill us

But this much desire, together, we're winners

They say that we're out of control and some say we're sinners

But don't let them ruin our beautiful rhythms

'Cause when you unfold me and tell me you love me

And look in my eyes

You are perfection, my only direction

It's fire on fire, mmm

It's fire on fire

Lyrics of Fire on Fire by Sam Smith

Oh I must let you go now...damn! 

I knew this day would come, I just didn't see it coming. I didn't see you coming. You hit me. Like a hurricane. You came sweeping in and before I could blink you had me. I couldn't see beyond you, I didn't want to see beyond you. For someone who stays in absolute control, you kicked the earth right from under my feet and I just didn't know how be with you. I drew you your own special circle, away from everyone else and put you there in your very own special place while I scrambled to understand what's just happened. But soon I gave up on understanding and from that point on when you were with me I wanted nothing else and when you were not with me I didn't know anything else and wanted to be back with you. All I heard, all I knew, all I felt was you and your voice pouring into me with each breath you that took and each word that you said and the oft long sigh you took when you realized you were hopelessly lost chasing butterflies as you did mid your monologues and I happily, slowly walk you back down your train of thoughts, back to where you started from and what you were trying to tell me. That's all I knew and so it was with us, just so it was, just.

And then there were times when you were not with me. When I knew you were out there somewhere in the dark night, dancing away a storm breaking many a young and old jealous hearts alike. When I knew there were hands grabbing you and eyes trying to grab yours even if for a second and somewhere in the background the music resonated with the crashing of the waves on the beach. I know you always told me that it didn't capture you like our times together did and even though many times that always sensing for danger part of my brain picked up on some events of the nights in yours stories that always didn't fit together, I simply smothered that part into silence every single time when it came to you. 

And so it was with us. I wanted you and I believed that you wanted me right back. I knew once you'd been away enough, you will run right back to me and fill me again with your never ending stories. I knew they will make me jealous and I knew you'd feign ignorance and carry on nonetheless until I have had enough and I drop someone else's name in the conversation which would give you a brief pause with your "Hmmm" but you'll put up a "I don't care face" anyway and carry on regardless - for a while. And before I know it, you'd find a way to throw that name and my words back at me , turn it into another never ending monologue which will end up with you chasing butterflies again and my walking you back again however this time I'll walk you back just a little further so you'd forgotten all about my name dropping and story weaving and you'd find something new to tell me and carry on once again. And so it was with us, just so it was, just so.

Velvety smooth nights laced with your voice would give away to harsh mornings without you which gave away to mellow afternoons filled with your incoming messages morphing into anticipatory dusk of your soon incoming voice which would turn into yet another velvety smooth night which would lead back into the morning again, repeating the circle day after day and night after night and so it was with us, just so it was, just so.

I know you said there are no regrets and no guilt and nothing else. And I know I agreed. But how could I not regret not knowing you? How do I not regret holding you close on the dance floor as you lose yourself to the rhythm before you realize that my hand is gripping your waist just a little bit too tightly, bruising it slightly as I grip harder. Before you stop and look at me, finally look at me amongst the crowd of younger, better looking, richer club owners and I don't know if I read apprehension in your eyes of my grip or anticipation of my next move. When I pull you slightly closer and you feel the affect you have on me and your eyes widen a bit and I realize that it's not just me who can't read you, it's also you who don't know the emotion that is slowly enveloping you from within and you are as eager as I am to find out which is which and what is what. When instead of pulling you in more, I relax my grip and let you slide back a bit and in that moment, that very moment the unmistakable disappointment flashes through your pearly whites and both you and I know what you want and I grip you hard again, pull you in again and kiss you. How do I not regret not having that kiss, ever?

Ecstatic, excited, happy as I was, I knew maybe that I am dreaming a bit too much. Maybe I am nothing more than a break from the usual people you speak with, a novelty for a while. Maybe I am making this world up in my head where you preferred being with me than anyone else and maybe it's not even me making it up but that hopeless romantic who I thought I'd rid of long ago and who here lead me astray as some sort of a long drawn out revenge that he was waiting for. Maybe he made me just dream all this and made you up and maybe I will wake up soon and realize you weren't so and I weren't so and that what was there was nothing but your nonchalance which I misunderstood horribly, and turned it into an imaginary world where you and I were out of control sinners wrapped around each other as the world disappeared from our peripheral vision. And so before you tell me this, for I know you perhaps already have and in my refusal to see anything else but what I dreamt of and hear nothing else that I wanted to hear, I chose to not listen to what you told me, I must wake myself up before the clock turns and tomorrow comes because tomorrow will be unlike any another day and before that day comes and this dream goes, I must let go of this you that I made up and; Oh I must let this you go now.

'Damn.