Fire Season

The haze from the smoke turns the sun into a bright pink ball as it sinks below the horizon.

Scorching hot, the flames that burn in my lungs as I try to walk.

My eyes ache with the sting, but I’m trying to acclimate to the apocalypse.

The one inside my heart.

Oh, did you think I was talking about fire season? No, just the everyday hell you left for me.

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