Has it been a long time since I've thrown myself into the fire,
since I've kindled the flames with my flesh,
until I was the burning.
My softness would dance,
flit, and keep the night warm
until the deepest parts of me were glowing embers.
Would I slowly burn out
as phoenix ashes cleansing rebirth.
Maybe the kindling is wet,
or smothered,
suffocating in warm memories;
smouldering passion.
I know flames are silent,
stealing life from anywhere,
grasping at the chance to be heard.
The noise,
hypnotic,
and never enough to be satisfied by.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
Has it been a long time since I've thrown myself into the fire,
since I've kindled the flames with my flesh,
until I was the burning.
My softness would dance,
flit, and keep the night warm
until the deepest parts of me were glowing embers.
Would I slowly burn out
as phoenix ashes cleansing rebirth.
Maybe the kindling is wet,
or smothered,
suffocating in warm memories;
smouldering passion.
I know flames are silent,
stealing life from anywhere,
grasping at the chance to be heard.
The noise,
hypnotic,
and never enough to be satisfied by.
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