These lungs are still. 

As flameless fire,
We are breathing dead smoke.

Looking back at our love, 
began full of sparked ignitions and frictions of heat,  
red flames of 
passion 
love
lust 
trust
and comfort 
perhaps over sticks not coal.

We heard a whisper...
"to enjoy a lasting fire one must have a good foundation,
coal is key
not sticks nor paper
or it will burn out fast"

When tested, our fire sizzled out.
flameless love sticks was all we had to work with.
no foundation of coal.
nor that signature paper.

We've sat blowing at these sticks from all sides 
with hope of catching one last spark, 
trying to awaken the fire once again.
Campaigning within ourselves
let's live again, lust again,
love Against and beyond
ourselves

Have we lost sight of the ground?
taken by the wind of life's happenings
now barely touching at fingertips

we've forgotten the lips
that whispered
foundations of a true love's lasting fire.

are we hopeless?
our love flames are breathing on sticks
not coal. 

both locked on exhale 
no oxygen to our souls
back, neck and head coiled 
like a lifeless corps
hanging from the spine

we are dying, Love
we've blown all through and through
and I know somehow I still love you 
but while sitting in this thick cloud of smoke
I fearfully ask
how do I breathe for I and you?