I cannot utter what
is bothering my soul

Perhaps it is the fire
of my own mind  

The same fire that
kept me warm was
the one to burn me

Or perhaps it is the
unbearable weight of
my sleepless eyelids

Still burning for the scars that we never planned on having,
yet dreadfully dreaming that it was all worthy of having.

I’ve heard it said that love
is friendship caught fire
And while I have often
warmed by bones amid your glow
You have never burned me

Even as coals from our tiny campfire
flung sparks into the air
that would disappear
before touching the ground
or our too near tent
You never burned me

No, I think instead
Love is friendship
which has produced fire

Words matter

Catching fire lends itself
to images of burning buildings
of holes in walls
and little boys falling asleep
cradled in a parents warm embrace
but waking up alone
abandoned
scared.

scary
catching fires are scary.

Produced fires are intentional
they are tended and protected
secured against the elements
boundaries placed around
to enjoy the benefits of the product
while limiting the potential harms inherent to
fire
love

The fire produced by our friendship
has warmed our children
has given them light to learn by
and best
a beacon home

Precious needs met
after years in the nuclear winter
that came after the flash and burn
of friendships CAUGHT fire

Victims of traumatic house fires though
rarely go on to become pyromaniacs
Hearts -both big and small
stamped forever with a warning label:
“This item may cause fire which can result in personal injury and even death”  

Caution is a virtue

Now I know
How betrayal feels
To be burned
By your very source of light