lowkey

Burns

The thought of you,

Burns

But not like the searing of skin

As one falls hand-first into a ring of fire.

More like,

The overwhelming heat of a furnace

Used to smelt metals

Burning,

Impurities off the mind

Leaving behind a genuine soul

Aglow,

From the liberation of acceptance

Of mind, body, and soul

 

Burnt,

By a steel poker that used to prod

The fire. A familiar surface

One that requires no flame