Fire and Ice.

That Summer Day, you and I
Met for the very first time
Singing songs of heat and passion
We caught on like fire against fuel

The hot skin of your bare hands
Touching my cheeks and burning it
Slowly, steadily, straightforwardly,
I Inhale the tender flame of your existence.

Seasons have passed and now it’s winter.
We’re cold, dark, freezing; the fire burnt out
As I exhale the cruel ashes of our past
You watch on, weeping with flesh and soul.

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About TheBlackWallflower

I'm just your average unique person. I love to read and write (no surprises there, eh?) and think a lot. I adore Rowling and think Harry Potter should be a religion. I also hate pink. I love fluff generally because it makes me feel intelligent and I love poetry because it makes me feel different. (yes, references.) I'm married to Sirius Black. So I sign myself as The Bitch alarmingly often. Oh, and I love Mr. Darcy. And Jo Longo. And Chandler Bing. And Sherlock. (Yes, I'm a fantard.) And in case you want to drop in a good, or a critical word, feel free to email me: theblackwallflower@gmail.com OR, follow me on Twitter: @WallflowerBlack Enough with the babble. OkBye. View all posts by TheBlackWallflower

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