Burning water

She was a pond of water, accumulated from droplets of rain, tears and tears of pain with mud at the bottom, moss on the sides and hyacinth on the top. No fish dared be found in her, no life ever nurtured by her, no form of attraction whatsoever displayed by her.

He was a bonfire, made alive by sticks of burning wood, rough and hard being slowly added. With ashes at the bottom, stones on the sides, and a burning light at the top. No creature dared to touch, no life ever not burnt by him, no form of safety whatsoever displayed by him.

They swam in her, inserted their bodies into her sanctuary, splashed her everywhere and left their dirt in her. Spat in her.

They warmed by him, used his heat to please themselves, used his light to see themselves better and left him in ashes. Spat in him.

He took a part of him dipped it into her and they, created something spectacular. He was not just a bonfire and she was not just a pond. They became burning water, dangerous yet calm.