You see people
in great works of literature
comparing love
to fire.

We are the smoke,
that rises above the flame
in a plume that ravages a perfect sky
with clouds of ash,
and the scent of burning.

We disintegrate,
spreading into the atmosphere.
So many particles of us scatter,
that no one knows
where we start and where we begin.
We are one,
and we span across the sky,
so fused in our many parts that
we can never be separate entities again.