Match
A
rapid
glow that
dances lower
as the night
grows old
and flesh
uncovers
flesh.
Your
wick's
end
is
where
my
fire
begins
to
dance
brightly.
I
melt
you
with
my
radiating
heat.
Smother
my
flames
out
with
your
special
touch
or
I'll
burn
down
your
house
of
pain.
It's supposed to be a match. But it doesn't look as good as it does on the site where I
created it.
Copyright © Marie Harrison | Year Posted 2010
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