On an Orange Bed of Embers.

That flame ignighted from the pit of my stomach

to the tip of my heart slowly pulses down

The wind keeps sweeping making it waver

gradually, carefully, shrinking in size.

Oh when the fire ever burns in your eyes.

Its warm to the touch like the feel of your skin

light on my finger tips with a magical trace

burning a pattern with the movement you make

im moving to keep in pattern with you.

oh when the fire burns what do i do?

Your movment is moving further from me

higher and wider but i cant keep up

your trace is fadeing i but i can see where you are

but i can not follow its your path not mine.

oh when the fire in my heart does pine.

And now i am sleeping all wrapped up in tears

twisted in a fate that i cant undo

limp, lifeless im loosing my mind

thinking of him and if he remembers.

Oh when the fire has burned down to the embers.

severed fingers in the sinders.

The touch too hot it burns my fingers
sethers the skin on my hands as i try
but like an animal i pursue the sinders
place my hand in the fire to catch a fly.
Trembling hands retreat once more
to tingle against the spring summers air
the red burns blister and glare red sore
but the owners ignorant and doesnt care.
Once more into the fires flame
the hands delve to the heart and core
the eyes wide mad as if it a game
but the hands retreat to cold air once more.