And If Loving You Is Hell

And if loving you is hell,

then let me keep burning.

Because the fire you bring

is warmer than the silence without you,

and even in pain,

I feel more alive than in peace.

I carry your name like embers in my chest,

a glow that eats away the darkness,

a fever that refuses to fade.

Every touch of memory—

a spark,

every absence—

a scar.

They tell me to walk away,

to save myself from the smoke and the ruin,

but what is salvation without desire?

What is safety without the taste of your lips?

Let me burn.

Let me crumble to ash

if it means I was once

consumed by something greater than fear.

Love was never meant to be gentle.

It was meant to test the skin,

to scorch the heart,

to break the body

and still leave us begging for more.

And so—

if this is hell,

if this is the punishment,

if this is the eternal fire—

then I will gladly stand within it,

arms open,

eyes unblinking,

heart surrendered.

Because the truth is simple:

I would rather burn in you

than breathe without you.

Author's Note:

This poem was born from the paradox of love—that sometimes the pain of holding on feels more alive than the emptiness of letting go. Thank you for reading and letting these flames touch your heart.