I douse myself in fuel,
Every square inch,
Covered.
Light a match,
Hold it to my skin.
It doesn’t take long to catch fire.

Does it hurt?
Beauty is pain,
And I hurt every time
Their eyes find me,
If-looks-could-kill.

Burning,
Ablaze,
The blistering agony
As my skin deforms,
Crackling like embers.
I melt,
And the horrible tang
Of roasted flesh,
The meaty, burned smell
Emanates like a sick perfume.
Even now,
My skin does not fit me.

I make my way down
All the way down
To you.
There you stand,
Dressed in white.
I lie down on the altar.
When I look up,
The light is bright,
So bright.
Your face,
Like an eclipse
Enters my line of vision.

I gasp for air.
You cover me in a blanket,
And my fire disappears.
The pain recedes,
Crumbling away.
A smile on your face,
And I close my eyes.

You stab me.
One
.
I
Two
.
Love
Three
.
You.

I arch my back,
Eyes fluttering open.
Upon my chest,
The gaping wound
Is closing.
My skin is healed,
The blisters gone.
My hands cradle a cross.

I have crucified your demons,
You murmur, serene.
My eyes glaze over,
I am at peace.