Ash becoming space

The prompt for Poets and Storytellers United is

Terry Pratchett’s line — “There was a light at the end of the tunnel, and it was a flamethrower.”

I loved that line 😂

They lingered longer than needed.
Her heart opened.
She breathed the incense of him
while silence quivered
and she rested in his moon breath.

Soon they shared one roof,
not one heart.
The walls trembled.
She fed herself hope,
believed there was a light
at the end of the tunnel,
it was a flamethrower.

She burned.

Love is not meant
to live on the edge.
She had poured herself
into the wrong vessel
and emptied
drop by aching drop.

She tried to fill the vacuum
with whatever shimmered.
At last she circled inward,
found her own ground,
rich.

She became space:
wide, luminous,
needing nothing to be filled.