A snowstorm howls outside our windows with the night frost entombed in shadows,
But no matter.
There's him, there's me...
And
There's our fireplace.
It's comforting, warm, slightly sensual, with the heat within rising with the hearth's flame.
I feel it. He feels it.
It's delightful, and getting warmer.
And warmer...
Oh,it burns now!
The flame in the hearth is long gone, replaced by the absolute forest fire setting me ablaze from inside.
A glance into his eyes tells me all I need to know,
That the flame lives in him too.
I have to leave, before we both burn.
YOU ARE READING
The Scraps of A Song: An Anthology.
PoesíaPoetry spanning topics from love to pain, to addiction, to borderline insanity, to romanticism..in a disorder so strange it becomes an order all its own... The Pieces of Her, The Scraps of A Song.
