The fire in me
derived from stones
will dance and sway
as they blow me away,
will still be still
for the paper and quill
like a lampstand
on the table
in a windy dark night,
will melt your fears
as long as you're near,
will devour all the waters
'til they turn crystal white
The fire in me
derived from stones
will warp inside your eyes
the bluish frosts
into a midnight nothingness,
will not be there
when the moon disappears,
can't always hold
the ashes, coals,
the flying smoke
towards the atmosphere
with nothing left
except the woods
too wet to be consumed
and the eddying air,
my only scentless heart's perfume
When I drifted from that pitch-black night,
I put my clothes upon my dewy skin
because my body is of flesh
weaker than the strongest walls
built on shoreline sands
Just a little armor
from the shaming playful heat
Just a little cover to survive the mist
I turned from left to right to see
the blots of reds on skins,
the party leftovers few hours ago
from the pits of my glitched memories
Every move is a gap bridged on
Every ache is a victory
Long live the pain that came
from the bites of the fire's apostasy
You see,
it is not fire that burns us
nor that keeps us alive
It is everything
that we desire to touch
more than too much
than nothing
— theptwelve
December 3, 2019
