he’s like a lighter
and when I look at him
I start sweating gasoline

crimson electricity surging throughout my core
the blood in my veins becomes magma
afraid to let it loose for it could have me skinned,
I aim to cool my desire behind lies more wretched than even my wishes

my eyes flicker silhouettes of the internal battle
as I watch him, vigor and all
Painting the world his own shade of red

he continues to move forward while a blaze floats around my helpless form.
the wind, though powerful and almost solid, is hardly relief from the smoldering attack


his gaze pierces me without warning:

the match has been thrown.