Brie Nicole Inked

They pressed me down into ash. Into silence. Into something dim enough to disappear. I believed it. I thought the fire was gone, that I was only what remained after the burning stopped. I learned how to exist in that dimness, how to call it normal, how to forget the feeling of heat altogether.

But embers don’t die easy. They wait. Low, patient, remembering. And then, spark. Small, trembling, almost nothing. I almost missed it. Almost let it fade the way everything else had. But something in me reached for it, cupped it, shielded it from the same forces that tried to end it.

And now, it grows. Not wild like before, not reckless flame devouring everything. But steady. Deliberate. Alive in a way that feels earned. This fire is different. It doesn’t need to prove itself. It doesn’t need to burn everything to feel real. It just exists. Persistent, unyielding. I am not the smoke they left behind. I am ignition. I am return. I am burning again. And this time, I choose what survives.