Scar

I met you in the spring,

When I was a wild and uncontrolled thing,

But she did not falter from my chaos,

I danced with her words and expressions,

I danced for her.

Her deep brown eyes could ask me anything and I would twist into knots for her desire,

Direct, calm, and interesting.

She did not make demands, but guided me on the dance floor,

Her sparks made me come alive as if I were just waiting for her to consume me.

Enjoying the fire that raged between the two of us.

I was flammable,

and so was the world.

She caused me to cackle and pop.

In the fire dancer's hands,

I was made to sing.

Our destruction was intense,

Beautiful,

Bright,

And then gone.

I yearn still for her burn,

Hands placed all over me,

Kisses,

Bites,

Giggling softly into the strength of my Witch.

This Hillie Dance,

I ache.

Kiss me,

Fire,

Again and again until you awaken me.

Your hands on my face,

My hands on your wrists,

Kissing away the cold air.

But I feel nothing but the wet and cold.

I do love the cold,

It is constant,

slow,

and beautiful,

Jack keeps his loves forever protected.

But sometimes,

I secretly wish that one day Flame could kiss me,

If for just one last time.