Being gentle isn't something I ever did well,
But I made damn sure to bring my touch down
To a smolder and crack open your chest
With cool, still hands.
I never thought my favorite sight
Would be the trees protruding from your chest
Or the vines intertwined between
Each of your ivory ribs,
All the way to your spine.
"I've never been this far before," And each
Word is punctuated by a chirp from every
Other bluebird perched along the canopy
Of your sternum.
Your exhale stirs a gentle breeze
And I'm dancing through you to its rhythm.
I know my touch is warmer than your summer air,
But I can't resist running my hands
Over the green of your leaves.
"I know this hurts."
I never intended for my fire
To make smoke billow from your lungs but
I let the fire spread past the flowers
Growing out of your pores.
I'll sit and watch you burn.