You are a wildfire consuming candle wick,
so alive that it hurts-
I avert my gaze so I don’t dirty your blaze.
You are an explosion of wildflower weeds
choking the boring expanse of green with color,
relentlessly virile in your quest to live.
You are alive!
My body still burns from your careless caress
and the lines of our history scar my with mystery.
So many people have tried to put you out,
you helped, trying to drown in complacency
but only steam met your descent, decency
too vivid to capture, too real to steal
You are a lightning bug!
A firefly flitting fierce across the solemn night,
fight is your middle name and even when curled
like a fetus wracked with wretched pain from panic
you break down the walls that try to constrain you.
So beautiful that death dances with you,
constantly reminded that to keep you
would only break your heart.
You are a wildfire blazing on the tip of a candle wick,
wicked glee in the spring of your every step