the pulse of raging flame sitting in wait deep within the core of light
the flicker of spark ignites, like the screech of dead, cold metal along your wooden floor as I fight the need to scream and break your vaporizer--
this slumbering dragon sitting in my chest with billowing wings of emerald green and burnt-orange like a whirlwind of autumn leaves twirling crescent magic of destruction pulling and pushing this rage up and down until the tendrils of flame simmer and I stand on tip-toes to kiss your soft lips, the smoke escaping as exhaust and love, tender--