The flame burns bright,
Flickers and then holds, strong
The orange of it glows for me
The yellow, it's always for you
Metaphors, metaphors...
My love is ash on my tongue.
Sometimes this love hurts, like a pang.
A half forgotten memory
That surfaces when I least expect it--
A sharp contrast to my soft skin,
The aching pulse, the reminder of life.
But it's all I have to give--
My soul in my eyes,
Ineffectual love letters,
And that orange that burns so hot?
You repel it
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