You
Are like a flame. And I am highly combustible household furniture.

And so you move close to me, and touch me.
And set me on fire.

Slowly,
Then all at once

You multiply and engulf me in your love, in you. All of you.

And we burn
A beautiful hot blaze, wrapped in desire and hunger

And we burn
Illuminating the room, the house, the street.

And we burn, your flames multiply and grow and we are tangled in heat and desperation.

And we ignore the: warning highly flammable sign

And dance till we’ve scorched through the floor,
Leaving burnt out embers

You consume me, all of me.

You search my heart, my soul, my body. A house, room to room

Stealing all my possessions,
All my highly flammable household furniture

And I let you.
I watch your flames dance to me and I feel your heat.

And I let you burn me. Enveloped in the pleasure of your flames I burn.

Hot. Desire. Hot.

Until you’ve burnt through it all.

Left my reflection a wobbling photo of grief.

Exhausted. No more oxygen to eat on.
Just C 0 2.

No more me and you.

And I’m just a shell. A frame.
Filled with burnt furniture

And black.