I do not burn among the flames.
Where even the slightest proximity
engulfed me in the everlasting blaze,
where the heat sank through to bone,
the soft and delicate marrow,
to the anima that drives us all…
I knew of true fire elsewhere,
the purest form of liquid molten
dripping from your exposed core
before my throbbing flesh could
even enter your own.
All else before and beyond that
seems to pulse without meaning,
an impassive lustful flash strobing
near where you once screamed
for me to pierce you to the hilt.
And I once lifted your lips to mine,
sealed in a brief tender moment
that was like a small whisper
among this visceral explosion,
among the radiant rainbows
living within your eyes.
I do not burn among the flames.
I’m now carved out of something harder,
something too resilient to be torched.
I knew of true fire elsewhere,
the most silken tight walls waiting
within your bare dripping core
for one ache to pierce another.
And you once lifted my heart
to thunder again your very own
before asking if things will change,
if anything truly survives such blazes.
I do not know what can be gleaned
from such delicate temporary cinders,
what can eventually be held sacred
in this echo chamber of joined skin.
All else before and beyond that
cannot ever pulse with the same beat,
the flash between us creates an afterimage
far too searing to touch the same way again,
once true fire has finally engulfed me,
nothing can be torched as it once was.
I no longer burn among the flames.
