Fire
Fire looks
right thru
...like a
hypnotist
a snake
charmer
tempts
beckons
warmer
warmer
fells us
at its
sacrificial
altar
lulling
into
deep
deeper
deepest
forest
sleep...
to blush
in its
heat
and curl
at hot
flickering
feet
to wake
in a
worship
of the
center
crackle
of its
power
red hot
white
flame
flicked
like a
lighter
behind
the palm
#Fire #Challenge
My Fire
There once was a fire
Burning strong inside of me
It was my inspiration
My creativity
My passion
My love
But fires don’t last forever
It was bound to burn out
I always feared that day
What would happen
When I no longer had a fire
To keep me going?
Would I burn out
Along with it
Or would I stay
In a meaningless existence?
When the day of my fire’s end
Finally arrived,
I sat in fear
Trying to hold on to myself
To everything I once was
To all I still wanted to be
But it didn’t work
It couldn’t
You can’t save a fire
If you have nothing left
To keep it going
It’s my own fault my fire burned out
I gave up hope
And thus,
I gave up life
My fire was strong
And beautiful
It held
All of my favorite colors
It was darkness
And light
Night
And day
It was everything
And nothing
It was me
I’m not sure who that is anymore
I’m lost without my fire
I hope someday
Someone
Will light my flame
Once again
Fire
Sitting alone in an ancient house of the past,
I stare into the depths of the fireplace.
A match box in my hand shakes as the fire catches fast,
Soon the wood ignites and sends light into my face.
Heat radiates from the fire comforting my weary body,
Sighing I lean in wanting the heat to reach inside me,
My hands are stiff as I rub them together, so bloody,
The blood flakes off and lands on my bruised knee.
The fire warms me inside and out,
Erasing the melancholy case of doubt.
Coldness wakes me, the fire must have died,
Shivering in the dark with nothing,
How I wish I still had some of my pride,
If only I did not lose everything.
The pain returns and I am glad for the numbness,
Accepting the cold as a friend, I stand and smile,
Gathering my matchbox I discard my glumness,
If I'm to survive I must get used to this for a while.
My only friend is in my hand,
The form of fire and sand.
Him
I sat on the sofa looking at nothing
In particular
Looking for the right words to describe
The reason
I was in your house
The reason you were seated across from me, staring
The only words
That arrived though, were
“I’m so fucking bored.”
You seized on that and stood
Abruptly.
“Let’s go.”
We were in your basement room
With the black satin headboard
Tufted crystal buttons
Mirror
Placed on the floor
Where we would watch ourselves in action
My breath caught in my chest
As you undressed me
Your stiff readiness
Engorging
Heat in every pore
This is what fire looks like.
