My Match and Her Blaze

a figure melts in my view and cosumes my waking the clock ticks with the throb in my chest and I feel sick how dare I think I deserve such grace? my god's grace is said to fufill me but Her's turns my heart into a match every touch, giggle, laugh-- grabs hold of me and strikes me against the box, over and over, until I have shriveled to ash But if to hold her is to burn i'd plead to be hugged by that forest fire i call Her skin. for love is the pain that comes from within.