every smoking, electric chemical balled into coals burning red and hot white knuckles and eyes like swords sharp and blinding in the sun i light a match in the forest and he throws himself into me, inferno on his lips, in bared teeth
are we fighting? am i failing? to **** a dragon that's already killed me your breath is hot. your scales, rough, are calloused hands that grip my collar im breathless, but i havent thrown a punch i see you falter.
are we fighting? are you sure?
i wrote poems using inktober prompts. here's day 12: dragon