He misses the days when he was worshiped. He remembers your sweaty body on sandy beaches dying for his attention. He can’t help it if he shines too bright. He believes he is hotter now than when he was younger. He doubts global warming and sun strokes are real. He imagines his kisses cauterizing your wounds and thawing your gloom. He ignores the scar on your shoulder where he attacked you again and again. He says that even though he blazes and boils, he never meant to put radiation inside you. He’s sorry he stings you when you’re vulnerable, burns you when you need him too much. He knows you want him to change. He doesn’t know what it’s like to not have power or do what he wishes. He dances with the moon so you get jealous and consider what you’d miss. He hurls auroras through your coldness, hoping you accept them as apologies. He realizes he could possess a million Earths, but he still wants you. He didn’t realize he scares you. He dreams of leaving you in darkness, where you’ll yearn for tender skin and solar flares. He expects you to forget who you might have been if you hadn’t melted for him.
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Melanie Maggard is a flash and poetic prose writer who loves dribbles and drabbles. She has published in Cotton Xenomorph, The Dribble Drabble Review, X-R-A-Y Magazine, Five Minute Lit, and others. She can be found @WriterMMaggard.