Climbing Up Out Of The Ashes

The Coolest Fires

You said the ice in my fingers never reached my smile.
I took that to mean you were blind,
or at least seeing me through blurry champagne toasty gazes.

How could you not see the chips of liquid rain I used as gloss?
Covering up all my cynical mind clouds that I wrote down,
my pen being my disappointment,
my paper being my experiences of foolishness that I kept in my purse ready at any moment to wear,
as a child keeps a doll tucked under her arm,
comfort in fake plastic smiles, naked sometimes,
or dressed up but always smiling.

Dolls can't argue or shout either,
they just stare at you, let you brush their hair,
never once yelling at the tangles you rip out of them,
they keep smiling like the pain is glorious, maybe it is?

So that is what I did when you blew your fires at my already charred up figure,
I became plastic, fake smiles, a being of glorious pain.
I smiled the coolest smile
but your fire never wandered away or waived in my hearts soul.
That you explained was the coolest fires known on earth,
that which we named Desire.