If the heat of fire burns orange then her eyes
are ablaze with blue. This feeling of rising and
falling against our chest—together we are alive.
She finds herself holding a candle. Cold hands protecting
fire from the cold wind. Her eyes are keeping us.
Hold me, carry me, cradle me, cover me. Cover me up
until the wind blows past and the air burns open.
If the heat of fire burns orange then her eyes
are ablaze with blue. When fires meet, thoughts and
eternities spill into the open, into the breeze. The
wind is back. We don't think anymore. Her eyes are keeping us.
Hold me, carry me, cradle me, cover me. Cover me up
until I think of nothing but blue and orange and orange and blue.
If the heat of fire burns orange, then blue can
keep forever, can't we?
A/N
I haven't been on here in a while lol. This is supposed to mimic Ocean Vuong's work.
Love ya,
MajestiqSeaFlapFlap
🥞
