The flame is my passion,
my passion the flame.
Flickering,
intangible:
the light twisted,
insane.

The fire cannot love,
its blue soul has no fear.

As it floats in motion,
I am torn apart,
curious,
the heat on my hand,
a wound in my heart.

No second will slice,
only water, not ice
and love
like coal,
burns out, grows cold.