Rekindled

I did tremble

under your long absent and familiar caress.

Purple fire seared my forgetful veins

and spiraled toward my naked and solicitous heart.

Flowers blossomed from my barren lips

and feasted happily on your sunshine.

They bloomed for a long vermillion moment

before wilting in the heat of our unquenched desire,

which I banked,

like a simmering coal

against the Winter of your indecision.



I tremble now you’ve returned to me -

to my heart laid bare,

my open hearth.

That brilliant ember blazes anew,

and I tremble.

I quake.



Do fan the fire,

Love,

but not to ash.

Fan the fire, my Love,

but make it last.