Literature
Her name was desire.
Sometimes, When I'm bored, and daydreaming,
I pretend that I'm playing with fire,
Cause it reminds me what it felt like,
To be alive, to be free,
To be dangerous and adored,
I pretend that when I walk sparks fly,
From my heels and set my path ablaze,
I like to watch bemused stares,
And think to myself, for once,
I'm the (good) bad girl,
I want my hair to flick wildly around my face,
For my smile to stop conversations,
I want to set fire to all we know,
To all the misconceived conceptions,
The stereotypes and lies.
I want to set fire to our love,
And hope that we survive.