Sunday, May 10, 2015

after almost three decades
of hot summers and
that many tepid winters
i realize 

                               i am my own fire.
        the arsonist of my devotion.

your face is the mirage
crystal eyes magnified by
a relentless desert sun
i want to drink from your lips
nourish myself from
your naked body and
the way it grows for me
you fill me, surface level
only liquid, not too deep
what i need when i am too thirsty
parched because i forgot

                          i am my own fire.
 a symphony of burning branches.
roots unencumbered. 

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