She
is the smoke of the campfire,
warm and crackling;
ever welcoming,
ever wanting.
The greedy, hungry, familiar flames
of a family BBQ-
She kisses the cast iron bars that contain her,
warming the food that will fill
all of those who worship her.

While I

I am the afterthought of pool chlorine,
clinging to the skin
even after the water is long dried.
The sigh of a salty sea
tracing lazy lines in the shore,
smoothing out the sharp edges and harsh lines.

Both of us dance
in the hazy light of nostalgia,
blurring the lines
of dream and ideation
with rose-tinted shades.

Lovely,
yet existing only
to extinguish the other