conflagration *

[part 1]
the cold eats through the
blankets, hats, gloves, but you
warm me so well i
let go these layers,
strip myself for you and burn us
both to ash, to bone.
my searing lips sprawl your small frame
on my bed

my thumbs on your nipples,
the buttons you love to loathe
that send
electricity down your
spine and through your arms
which attempt (but fail) to pin
my limbs.
you gasp. go on,
touch me. i won’t pull away.

i will burn us
to ash, to bone.
give me
power and your limp extremities
will twitch and jerk.
burn me, burn you
set us smoldering
and watch the sparks catch

in the white-hot heat of our connected hands.
scorch me now,
burn me, ash, bone, blood
burn you to nothing but
cinders
between us

burst into flames.






[part 2]

fire is
dangerous, but mostly
it elicits transformation — blistered palms,
flushed
sweaty faces,
flickering light that romanticizes
even the harshest
features.
fingers snatch
back
from the flames or else
accept
the burning sensation, the flames

jumping playfully from
candle
to bonfire
but
realize, please, that all of this
fun

with flames
will necessitate the fire
of untruths, the burning
lies,
loathed,
to
keep the flaming show from setting
life afire, from

letting the searing heat out
so that others might
feel the touch
of fire
and be hypnotized
by the burn.




*senior thesis poem