blossom!

pyromania

You are like a moth drawn to a
Flame—
If a moth could light matches
Your eyes shine with such an
Intensity
When they melt into the warmth
You light match after match, and
Breathing
Becomes difficult when you smile
Because that smile of yours
Ignites
Me, and I cannot do much but
Grin it through until the little
Inferno
Goes out, but the burn persists