They asked if we still talk
I told them we not strangers

As he stands there
on the edge of surrender
you let the fire spread
let it consume the air between you
until there is nothing but heat
letting him smolder
letting him yearn
until he's nothing
but ash and embers at your feet

until there is nothing
but a man on fire
and a woman who knows exactly
how to make him burn

She was pretty,
–Unconventionally.

She was an evening dress.
Red lipstick,
By the poolside.

She was a warm hug,
Served with a side of her smile.

She was the home for the man she adored,
The chicken noodle soup on a cold day.

She was everything to everyone,
But still held in the hands of love,
Fitted curve to curve.