You are Alive


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





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