Skin charred,
As the flame got to close,
Your flesh was not prepared,
For the intense heat.
She takes another step,
Blindly burning brightly.
Expecting you to latch onto her back.
She touched you,
Intoxicated by the feel of touch.
The flame that surrounds her always,
Stretches onto your own body,
Consuming you and leaving you boiling and aching.
Her needy touch is a flame,
And she mistook you for a moth
Nov 23, 2017
Nov 23, 2017 at 8:41 PM UTC
Skin charred,
As the flame got to close,
Your flesh was not prepared,
For the intense heat.
She takes another step,
Blindly burning brightly.
Expecting you to latch onto her back.
She touched you,
Intoxicated by the feel of touch.
The flame that surrounds her always,
Stretches onto your own body,
Consuming you and leaving you boiling and aching.
Her needy touch is a flame,
And she mistook you for a moth
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