Momoko

My Best Friend

She is like fire.

she looks warm and safe from a distance,

but I was the one who stood too close.

The heat burned me, left scars on my skin,

smoke wrapped around my throat,

I gasp for air, 

choking, 

blinding.

She is like a storm.

Her moods surge and collapse,

the wind crashing everything in their path.

I feel myself being torn apart, 

Yet hang on tight to the branches, 

Trying to soothe the chaos. 

Suddenly, the storm dissolves.

She returns just like a warm sunny spring, 

after long, cold days.

Warmth pours into me,

filling every hollow place.

But when she drifts away again,

I grab her hands, 

begging not to go.

Fire returns, 

I feel the pain bloom over my wounds 

Unhealed like a red fire lily. 

OH NO, OH YES!

I checked my phone again, a mail from him earlier, 

Room 914. I’ll be waiting.

No heart, no emojis

Just a simple statement that pulled me in every time.

I knew I wasn’t part of his real life.

I wasn’t the person he went home to.

I wasn’t the reason he wore a ring tan line on his finger.

But I knew the moment I opened that door, 

he would hold me like he had been waiting for days.

He would call my name like it was something very special. 

And for a few hours, I could pretend I was the one. 

“Don’t let it be a one-night stand,” 

I had once whispered to him on a hot summer night.

He kissed me instead of answering.

One more night.

One more lie.

One more “Oh no,” followed immediately by “Oh yes.”

I hated myself for wanting him this much.

And I hated how easily that feeling dissolved 

the second I pushed open the hotel door and saw him rise from the bed, 

smiling at me like I was the only thing he’d been waiting for.

I felt the door creak behind me, like it was laughing at my dumbness.