the pulse of raging flame 
sitting in wait           deep
within the core of light

the flicker of spark ignites,
like the screech of dead, cold metal
along your wooden floor
as I fight the need to scream
and break your vaporizer--

this slumbering dragon
sitting in my chest
with billowing wings of 
emerald green and burnt-orange
like a whirlwind of autumn leaves twirling 
crescent magic of destruction 
pulling and pushing 
this rage up and down
until the tendrils of flame simmer
and I stand on tip-toes to kiss
your soft lips, the smoke
escaping as exhaust and love, tender--