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Poem

I love the words you speak
For they reinforce the ideal in which hands speak.
A warmth that can't be heard, only felt.
A bonfire released in a cylinder.
The crackling of dopamine like wood.
Branches that provide warmth in times you aren't around.
The times dawn can be found in the palm of our hands.
The waking of primal urge where words do no justice.
It is there I find you.
Each crackle, every ash of residue where we've rested.
For you are the fire lit in body.
The cylinder that keeps me warm.
No matter how far away you are I melt in thought.
Urging to move closer.
Alas you welcome it.
Open flames that lash out without regard where it touches.
Our love is one of eternal scaring.
The wind lifting each flame higher.
The preference of action over word.
The concrete stained, scared.
Our warmth attracts the attention of the sky.
In brief hesitation we overheat.
Knowing only to collapse.
This is what it feels to kiss every word that slips through your lips.
In eternal heat.
A ring that burns in depth.
A sign that we were forever here.
I am drained.
The sap and moisture comes to a boil.
I am forever spoiled.
Forever yours.
Alas I welcome it.
The residue of what we've become.
A bridge of me, given to you.
Stacked and piled high.
A match thrown in need.
Without fear we provide each other in eternal warmth.
The sky borrows our heat.
This cylinder that can no longer contain this fire.
Distributed as red orange.
The look exchanged eye to eye.
The beginning and end of all we'd ever know.
The smoke covers as clouds.
I am reminded every time I look up

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