by Jeremiah Rogers
As she stepped into the room,
I inhaled the cinder and ash on her skin.
Her hair raged as a great forest fire,
Black with red streaks, and just a wisp of bleached white.
Her eyes were the color of cherry oak firewood,
One with just a spark of flame left.
Her lips were glossed with kerosene,
And with a kiss, set me on fire.
The dress flared bright red,
A flame begging for blood.
I fell in love with this burning fire.
She scorched my heart.
Consuming it to the last vessel.
But, there's a spark where my heart used to be
And it will always live on.
Poem Copyright © 2010 by Jeremiah Rogers