TIL we combust

I don’t regret meeting you.
I regret how long I stayed
after I saw the smoke.

We should’ve kept it simple,
names, laughter, distance.
But we fed something reckless,
called it love
like it wasn’t already burning.

You were fire,
not warmth, not light,
just ruin with a pulse.
And I was gasoline,
learning too late
what I was made for.

There was never a future here,
only a slow ignition,
a quiet promise of damage.

We didn’t fall in love.
We accelerated.

And everyone knows
how this ends,
not with goodbye,
not with closure,
but with what’s left
after everything worth saving
is gone.

Because it was never “if.”
Only a matter of time
till we combust.