I hate how I love basking in your warmth,
how your caress
sets my body on fire.
Your every touch burns
against my skin;
but I dare not stop you,
for ache is but a fleeting feeling.
It stings every time we kiss;
it hurts where your lips have been.
They burn my flesh,
leaving blisters in their stride.
all these scars are your doing.
I still remember the day you arrived;
the sky’s lifeless,
the air stale.
It was a long winter – cold and cruel.
How I prayed all season
for sunshine and bloom.
But it wasn’t the wind of the forthcoming Spring
that came on your arrival.
Yours was a breeze
far warmer and more intoxicating.
It’s an unexpected gift,
but welcomed, nonetheless –
the heat you emanated,
the Summer you gave.
Paradise is your embrace –
it reminds me of Winter evenings by the fireplace,
of how I used to sit and wait and dream
of all the Summers that had been
until the crackling fades,
until the fire withers.
But your fire –
it thrived by the day.
your light grew blinding, your warmth scorching.
And I’m afraid that in this afternoon,
as we embrace,
I’m the only one who’s burning.
Time and again, I tell myself
that the next time we make love,
I’ll be the one touching your chest,
I’ll be the one kissing your neck,
I’ll be the one pulling you into an embrace,
so I can make you feel the heat devouring my being
the same way you set my soul aflame.
But fear – it has always been my enemy;
I plunge into a sea of doubt and decay
as soon as you let go of me.
And I fear that once you see
even just a speck of the spark I keep,
So I content myself with basking in your warmth.
I continue to dance in your flames
and mend the blisters when you are away.
And I’ll keep on going
even if your fire consumes me,
even if this infatuation burns me.
It’s a tragic story
how I opt to stay mum
so you could lay with me without guilt,
so I could buy me more time.
Oh, what I’d give for this Summer to last an eternity.
I’d sacrifice my body,
I’d trade my soul,
I’d do anything just to keep you one more season.
But our days are numbered –
this is the ugly truth.
Spring is almost upon us,
the melting ice serves as proof.
So in this afternoon
and all the afternoons you’re in town,
Make love to me.
Leave me burnt and bleeding –
I will gladly savor every second of it.
these wounds will heal.
And in every Summer that comes,
I will look at these scars
and reminisce your warmth.
I will always remember
that Summer came for me early in Winter,
and it was perfect.
You were perfect.