Your kind words whispered clear,
With your soft smile you wiped my tears,
Told me to cherish them,
To not shed it for unworthy cause,
But when I looked at you through the corner of my eyes,
As if yours were sparkling,
Teary,
From crying for me.

And from that moment onward,
I knew you lied when you said my heart was fragile,
Because yours were as delicate as Lisianthus,
And mine were a mere Daisy.

Yet your existence proves that,
Being brittle as can be is never weak.

No matter how many times
I burn my hand upon the stove,
I can’t help but be completely entranced by it’s radiant and beautiful glow.
And oh god, how I need the heat it emits so effortlessly.
While I gaze at it longingly,
wishing to graze my fingers upon
it gently,
I was never strong enough to not get burned.

A child of the Sun
      Her golden miracle
            The touch of Midas
                  like melted caramel.
She flows through your veins
      and seeps through your skin
            A breath of warm honey
                  I thaw once again.
She caresses your face
      leaving stains of rose
            With benevolent kisses
                  she dusts your nose.
Hair touched crisp
      by her scarlet aura
            Burnt orange hues
                  Warm curls of lava.
Through gentle strokes
      you paint my days
            with transcendent smiles
                  like soft morning rays.
Oh your sparkling eyes
      glazed in undying fire
            You are my sunrise
                  It’s you I desire.

In the beginning,
A slight flame,
so pretty.

There is no cold,
Just a lack of heat.

You still were the warmest place they knew;

To even force a fire out of you.

To burn you down to ashes,
Left with not even a spark,

There still is no warmer place than you.

Even when it's left with no fire,
Not even warmth,
But cold.

sunlight dancing in,
doing pirouettes on my sill,
i leave her trails of sugar
and she dances on still!!

warmth sauntering through,
lounging on the floor
and darting up the stairs
desperate for something more.

a breeze trickling through—
her hair a soft plume
of cold silver and blue,
just to match the moon.

The sun rises in the east
with loud colors of orange, yellow and red
waking gently the sleepy birds
that come and peck at my window

Vibrant life begins as nocturnal
animals slink back into their homes
The sun proudly shows off her heat
and beauty as she has been in hiding

Today I will bask in her warmth
and enjoy life's little miracles
As she warms our lakes and rivers
I will swim in the living waters

Her roots are growing upon your being,
waiting for the warmth of your presence
and the drops of your attention.

As it grows,
she begins to demand more
her appetite to sustain grows.

But slowly you’re furthering away
your radiation no longer reaching
upon her bare skin
as the trail of your shadow is left behind.

Just like the rest you’ve furthered,
leaving her parched and left to thirst
the reservoir that has stopped flowing.

Grief tastes like fear,
for attachment is the synonym of fear.
To be intertwined and interlinked,
to give and expect —
but to receive less
with the passing days.

The experience of the past
harbors fear,
tremble at the feel of attachment
that is ripped away
to leave her bare.

Before you leave
Before you detach
She will leave
and disentangle herself.