Mellifluous Murmurs

Running Towards The Pain

My fingers spend so much time

trying to figure out life through the minimal of words

striving to discover a soul

and wanting to look for pain. 

I refrain pain 

but I go on and still go looking for it. 

It would sting if I sheltered its being under my hand;

my warm and welcoming palm.

But I got used to it 

I know the feeling 

even if I dumbfoundedly placed my hand over the placid yet viscious fire.

I know I'd burn my existence over the inferno 

and I'd burn this love on a fire

I'd define myself as the last of an afire love

and I'd lock this calling in a frame; a photograph.

My bloodstream does not only include the thick resistence of blood, 

but all of my burdens

all of my memories 

all of my hurting...

It simmers a little when I'm welcomed with the pain so enduring.

I burned my tongue on the fire 

but I cooked my heart over a roast and it evaportated into thin specs of ash; 

just how I thought it would.