Poem: The fire

A mustard room
Concave, no spiky corner insight
This man was also there
wearing a white t-shirt and filling the room
with an unstable kindness
— A charmer, I would say

For the first time ever
I was flirting away, feeling beautiful
bold, and ready to love
It was a dream
I was dreaming

The kitchen is burning
The oven exploded, and the fires are high, tickling the roof
bright yellow with this red halo
looking like neon lights

I realised the room felt like a cave
Or those apartments in sci-fi movies
spacial-like, minimalist decoration and no windows

The man was unbothered and calm
Maybe, he wasn’t aware of the fire,
or he wasn’t there at all
I was thinking of money while looking for the fire extinguisher
In the dream,
I was able to use the device almost naturally
I acted fast and purposely

The neon lights were off,
leaving behind this heavy fog
and once an oven became a blackness
splattered all over the kitchen wall
-— a portal to another dimension

I woke up at 6:00 that Saturday morning
Trying to remember the dream
The only thing I forgot was the man’s face
The blurry complexion never took shape

I will never know
Who was with me, willing to love me
That fiery night