I have a secret. It’s a crush.

It started out small, a normal flicker of a friendship.

But that little flicker burst into flames when I wasn’t home.

It licked and burned through all of my belongings, my notes, my pens, my heart.

And I cleaned it up.

I cleaned up every little peck of ash left from that blaze, stuffed them into my pockets

and made sure to never take my hands out of them to make sure none would fall out.

I was embarrassed.

I didn’t want to let anyone know I’d gotten so careless with a mere candle that I’d let it light up my whole life.

I don’t know how I let this happen. I don’t know how the cold screen of my monitor in that dark November night

could turn into hours spent just listening to my heartbeat, waiting for her to message me back.

I didn’t even know her face, I still don’t know her name or her voice, but I do know her words.

And even though I could never ever tell her these words I just told you, it makes me feel better to know that someone,

with a screen just as cold as mine, might be able to feel the heat of the flames that have burned me so deeply.

This is a secret between you and me,

even though I wish she could know of this pain I feel every time I delete this message;

this is our secret.