i was born with the
the fire in my belly.i don't stand for
what i believe is wrong.the fire burns people
who come too close.
they jump away
afraid to get burned,
but she isn't.i envy that.
she turns to me
with squared shoulders.she too has nerve.
yet, she was born
with rain in her.only she can quiet
my spiteful spirit
quicker than
a fire crew
cleaning up
an arsonist's wet dream.fire and water.
how cliche.
but, we wouldn't
be a fairytale.
no, we would be
battling gods
like zeus and hades,
complimenting the other
while simultaneously
pissing them off,
by challenging
by questioning.i want that with you.
it feels so real,
the passion flows
between us
like the river stix.i want your soul.
you can take
the heart
you seemed to revive
in return.
YOU ARE READING
she likes the color yellow
شِعرmy soul in poem form. i'm not a good poet, but i've learned to be vulnerable.