I am, an arsonist. Leaving everything in my path scorched.
Love me from a distance.
Feed my fire but don’t come too close.
The minuscule spark flickering inside of me is keeping my vessel moving,
living, thriving.
Feed my spark, but only so gently.
I am fragile,
so, so, fragile.
I will combust if my flame gets too large but
will die out the second my spark is smothered.
Put out my spark, and I will go too.
I will feed your fire, and keep your flame around for years to come.
Love you, till my vessel becomes nothing but a withered soul
in an aching body.
Love me from afar, get too close and I will scorch you, with a single touch.
I carry emotions on my back, like an arsenal,
they’re loaded with passion and pent-up feelings.
Waiting, for someone to cross the boundaries, break the trust established with myself.
That is when my flame will rise and you will be too close.
Love me from a distance, and I will love you till my body aches,
and my lungs are screaming for air until my eyes have no tears left to cry
like there’s a drought where my vessel resides.
