When I ask you what you want, our faces inches from each other on a shared pillow, heat radiating from your body to mine, your reply is something out of my control. You want me to purge my memory, to scrub down the insides of my soul, and set whatever remnants, the leftovers of clutter from decades past, alight in a bonfire. You forget that fire is not my enemy, but my friend, for my heart is flammable, perhaps too much so. It dances in sunlight, blooms with the feel of a human hand, and exists on short-lived, spontaneous quivers. Yours is ivory, like the bone that scaffolds it. Cool to the touch, stern and strong in darkness and, dare I say it, untainted. Pure. We are different you and I. But for you, I will tame my heart into a star. The night is quiet.
Categories: Stories and Casual Thoughts