Flick the Bic
and you'll get a flame.
Ignited as if magic,
a spark, explosion,
hidden within
a hard case
cold until held by
callous hands.
You become grounded.
The earth begins to claim you
as it's own.
Vines, roots
scale your body
and dig themselves deeper,
becoming one with
the captor.
It started with
a drip.
A singular orb
of pure and innocent
water,
and soon you're submerged within
that person more
than you thought possible.
The air you had
inhaled, exhaled
together
has become more
painful than the searing fire,
hitting harder than the
most crusted stone,
pushes poisonous liquid
into your lungs
with an endless swell
and leaves you breathless.
coffee shop poetry always does me well.
