Ash

The old loneliness I treasured, its icy teeth long settled in my flesh were at home.

But this?

Dripping with longing and desire, and traces of trembling fingers on hot skin; with question marks and what ifs..

This is fire and molten rock, it burns through my bones and leaves smoking holes every time you place a soft kiss on the back of my neck, every time you rest your hand on the side of my face.

Yet it’s that same kiss that I await to fill the hollowness, that same hand to piece me back together.

But my love, what if there’s nothing left then? If the blaze leaves only ash in its wake and your final kiss blows me to the wind.

Have you wondered?




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