Poems by yours truly

[villainlover]

thats my bestie broo

 

[yunaisms]

when they're talented, ur friend, and they're matching w u?!??!

 

[anmybeloved]

Spoiler: mention of fire and death?

I was sitting down with the other firefighters, all of us laughing and talking. It was a calm morning, the only calls we had gotten were minor ones. My mind began to wander away from the conversation the thought of my husband Peter appearing, of course, we weren't legally married but in our heads we were. Today was his birthday, his 27th birthday, which would make it our 8th year of being together. Just as I was recalling our moments together the fire alarm rang. I jumped up and slipped on my suit.

"HEY! JAMES. HURRY THERE'S A FIRE AT THE SHIRTWAIST FACTORY!"

I nodded, running to the buggy as I waited for my team to load up. The chief finally got in and we sped to the factory, sirens blaring, the thought of my husband coming up again, if this fire got out of hand then I could get hurt and I might not return home to him and if- no. I can't think like this, I can't let myself lose hope before we even get to the fire.

"Come on, boys. Get the hoses ready, we're almost- GOOD GOD THAT'S ONE HELL OF A FIRE" The chief's mouth fell agape, staring at the tall building. My heart dropped, seeing the floors engulfed in flames. All those women, all those young women, all those people. They're in danger. A rush of adrenaline swept through my veins, I jumped out of the buggy, running inside as I slipped on my oxygen mask.

I ran to the stairs, opening every door I could and ordering the women to make their escape, as I got up the floors I made note of floors, 1, 2, 3, 4, I was on the third floor. I had saved so many young girls, I was confident I could save more, and more, and more.

Eventually, I reached the 7th floor and it was engulfed in flames, I heard screaming and crying from the few floors above. Oh no. Im too late. I can't do it. I can't save them. I can't. It's all my fault, all of it, if I was quicker these women and men wouldn't die but because I'm slow they're left to die slowly as they scream for their loved ones in their final moments.

Guilt. I was engulfed in guilt, the guilt was soon to be accompanied by flames if I didn't do anything about it. I wanted to do something, I did. I just couldn't. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't. My body was frozen and my breathing sped up, panicking, I held onto myself.

All hope was gone. I was going to die. This was it. I told myself, but then I thought of my husband, his beautiful face, his soft hands, the silver band on his left ring finger, his soft, wavy, brown hair, his light scars, his everything. I had to get out of that building for him. For my husband.

I stood up and dashed down the stairs, turning quick but staying low, avoiding the smoke around me, after what felt like ages of running I made it out, covered in black ash and scratches I hadn't even realized I had gotten.

"JAMES" I heard a voice scream. My husband. That was him. My husband was there, I was alive, and we were together.

I ran to him, wrapping my arms tightly around him as he broke into tears, his hands wrapping around my burnt clothes. I hadn't realized how much I needed him, or how much he needed me. That's when I knew, I was done risking my life, I was done living on the edge because the man in my arms was my life. I was never going to leave Peter ever again.

I had to write a story for my RLA class that was at least 200 words so I wrote a 600+ word story and made it gay-- (we were learning abt the traingle shirtwaste factory fire)

 

[sanasideup]

it's so good!!