Love that becomes fire (Marcella Boccia)
Once, it was a whisper,soft as silk,a murmur in the shadowed corners of the heart,caressing the edges of doubtwith the gentleness of a breeze.It spoke in the language of light,and I listened—I listened to its sweetness,believing it was enough.But love, when it chooses to burn,does not ask for permission.It ignites from within,turning the flesh to tinder,the soul to ash,and the heart to a flame that does not die.It consumes what it touches—innocence, trust,even the air between two soulsthat once spoke in sighs.Now, it is smoke that chokes the lungs,and fire that dances in the eyes.I thought love would keep me warm.I thought it would shelter mefrom the cold winds of the world.But instead, it has made a furnace of my chest,a fire that will not be quenchedby time or rain or prayer.Love, once tender,becomes a storm—a wildfire spreading through the marrow,a blaze that must burn until there is nothing leftbut the charred remainsof what we once called peace.And even in the ashes,even when the flame has taken all,love remains—not as it was,but as the fire that cleanses,the fire that leaves only the bonesof who we are meant to be.
