I would

“I would grind my bones to dust just to light a fire if you said you needed a bit more warmth. Not because I am brave. Not because I am strong. But because when you say you’re cold, something inside me shakes. I don’t know when it started — this need to fix the weather in your world. Maybe it was the first time I saw you rub your hands together and laugh like it didn’t matter. Maybe it was the way you always say “I’m fine,” even when your eyes look tired. If love was winter, I would learn how to burn. I would sit beside you and pretend I don’t feel the flames. I would smile so you wouldn’t notice what it costs me. Because your comfort feels more important than my pain. If you said the night was too long, I would stay awake just to keep you company. If you said the room felt empty, I would fill it with stories, even if my voice broke. And if all you needed was a little warmth, just a little, I would break myself slowly piece by piece until your hands were steady again. Maybe that sounds foolish. Maybe it is. But when you look at me like the world has been unkind to you, I don’t think about balance. I don’t think about saving myself. I just think — how can I make it better? I don’t need to be the sun. I don’t need to be a hero. I just want to be enough to keep you warm. Even if it means turning myself into ash.”