I don't know how you hold this flame
How you can cradle it without singeing
Your fingertips tickle my skin
Calluses rising and falling,
Rough and smooth
Like your passion
Makes my knees weak
And sparks fears of the unknown
Of trails blazed on my very flesh
Of innocence stolen and mangled
Of mines set like switches, triggers

But still you hold my flame.
And though you mistake this fear,
Think it is one of your creation,
Still you cradle.
You don't deserve this.
I don't deserve you.