Saboteur

I'm a saboteur. I steadily crack open the gas pipes surrounding my heart and build up the fumes over the course of a romantic relationship. I can hear the gas whistling in the background as I start to get dizzy in my head. My heart doesn't beat, it twitches nervously, awaiting the spark that will set it off. Even I don't know what will trigger this gas bomb. Whatever sets it off only takes half a second before I can feel the explosion of heat slowly burst from chest. I look down and my eyes are greeted by a ball of flames. As the fire erupts from chest and singes my face, I can smell burnt blood barbecued bones. My lungs disintegrate. The fire burns a hole into my stomach and I keel over. I can't scream because I can't breathe. This is what happens every time.