She's the thought that occurs in my mind.
The one that shows up without warning.
A gallon of gasoline, a handful of matches.
The spark that ignites there is brighter than anything
I've ever seen.
Setting fire to anything that isn't her.
I couldn't have saved myself If I tried.
Watching everything reduce to individual piles of rubble.
Shes recklessly chaotic.
Perfectly complexed in the way that she stands.
Striking the head of the match on the bottom of her heel.
There she stands watching everything burn.
Covering herself with my faults.
There she warms her heart by the fire.
Stoking the fire with old memories.
Slapping my hand each time I reach for one.
She's that one thought that asks me to hand her more matches.
Paying no never mind to if she's burned herself or not.
Dousing everything in gasoline that surrounds her.
Her reply to everything.
Revealing a devious grin, extending her hand for more matches.
Theres no doubt in my mind that she's a devil disguised in angel wings.
Roasting her halo over the fire,
Soon to press against me.
Branding me with her everlasting essence