The Sky is Always Falling

His soul is a forrest fire I have yet to extinguish. Just call me little light lady made of kerosene and embers. Together, we will burn the whole goddamned world down. Together, we will burn through each other like kindling. We both keep stars in our pockets, we collect them from the ground because no one ever seems to notice that the sky is always falling. They spill from our fingertips, and flood every blank space. There isn't enough room on this planet for both of us. We cannot occupy the same space without combustion. When people fall in love, they burst into flames. But what happens when they're already made of flame? The universe keeps pulling us apart and pushing us back together like the moon and the tides, and I swear that's how it ends. That's how everything will end.