WILDFIRE

Somewhere between sleep and a long exhalation, a feeling arises that resembles heat under the skin. It is not love - rather, its phantom, a reflection of the unfulfilled, but for some reason it still warms. It is as if someone left the light on in an empty room - useless, but cozy. Tears flow not from pain, but from the fact that everything inside has finally thawed. And even if there are no hands to hold you, there is the sky, where you can hide with your eyes closed. There, the stars quietly toss embers - just enough to last until morning.