If I had to choose
I'd say that my heart is a box of matches
and you are the surface on which I strike them
for the very sight of you sets my body ablaze
when your eyes meet mine
I light a new match every time
as often as this happens
you seem to remain oblivious
as if you can't feel the fire that you inspire within me
like the flame the picks at my skin does nothing to yours
the flickering light that dances just at my fingertips sustains me
and yet effects you not
I fear the day when I use up my last match
and I will be burned beyond recognition
while you remain as you are
with nothing to show of my presence
and no cares about the ash on your shoe