The speaker describes a wild fire burning in their heart and eyes, and the surprising thing is what feeds it: their own dead, broken thoughts and insecurities. These get tossed on like branches and leaves, so the things that once weighed the speaker down become fuel for something bright. The speaker doesn't resist. They even say the warmth inside makes them feel good, so the fire seems less like destruction and more like release.
In the last lines, the speaker lights up the night and turns to someone else, reassuring them: don't worry, you're the one who made me ignite. That shift makes the fire a image of love or deep attraction, with the other person as the spark. The mood is intense but gentle. There's a sense of surrender and relief, along with a little vulnerability, since the speaker admits how much this person has changed them. It reads like a quiet, glowing confession rather than a warning.