I've read the devotion in the palm of his hands. As he loves me.
My heart pulses in delight, and yet how I respond again and again with fright.
Sometimes when the cold dawns me and takes resort in the mercy of any feeling, I beg for heat then to come and claim me.
Not a moment before, nor after...
just as I freeze over and am bide of oxygen. I wish then for his lips to press over my frosted ones and bend
the complacency of my pressing fears and needs.
Behold! The fall is coming. How do the leaves know to wither now and not bloom once more in such heat? The pavement smolders under this September Sun. I've lost it now, I think aloud and breathlessly.
The fire in me grows rampant and I burn with a fever each night.
There is no amount of water or wind that can ease the pain tonight.
I allow the flames of my natural temperament once again take residence.
I am either the passion or the cure. I wait here, known but unloved for God's score.