Inhaling oakmoss and tobacco
Sparkling ivory with the structure of ebony
She swirls her glass, wrapped with crimson talons
Toes pointed in patent leather, wrists cuffed in white lace
The fire crackles a warning but it glows too enticingly
I feel comfort and fear, scorched and glacial
I am the arsonist's thirst- nomadic, static
If tonight isn't the peak of my existence
I am the world's luckiest soul