Katrina Kaye

I didn’t mean to tell you
I love you.

I hadn’t planned on falling again,
so soon.

I was going to stand,
strong and solitary,

Diana among her hounds,
silver bow and arrow poised,

leap from stone to stone,
hunting the wildest of prey
with the keenest sense,

balance tall
on steep slopes,
and gaze across uncharted valleys,
virgin and golden before me.

But your eyes were fire
and I smoldered before you.

I tripped through the brush
twisted my wrist,
broke my bow,
and fell, head first,
into soot and ash
calling your name all the while.

I would have been scared
or angry or ashamed
had you not
slid into the pit beside me,

your hand on mine,
your lips on my neck,
whispering

you love me too.

“Fire and Ash” is previously published in the collection, my verse…, published by Swimming with Elephants Publications, LLC in 2012 and A Scattering of Imperfections by Casa de Snapdragon 2009.