I would that you would want me
Want me more than your ego
Would allow you hide
Want me more than your reticence
Could conceal
I would that you would seek me
See me
And melt at the sight
I would that you would touch my skin
And feel yours light ablaze
I would that you would miss me
If I were gone for days
I would will so many things
But you shouldn’t always have what you would
Else all the good you did get
In getting wouldn’t be so good.
©5-31-2012 L. Ashwood
Pyromania, an obsessive desire to set fire to things
I wish this match was not so perfect
I wish I could extinguish the flames
I wish that the heat didn’t draw me in
That the flicker would not entice me
I would that I could stop
I would that I could quit
But I’m nowhere ahead
A hundred miles behind
I just need to smell it
Let the smoke enrapture my brains
I just need to hold it
Just a little bit more
I wish I could harness it
Be its only master
Then be consumed by it
As it’s only servant
But I can have neither
And that’s the hardest part
And I wish I could forget that
But I cant.
Feb 6, 2009
Everyone likes playing with fire.
The closer, the hotter.
The hotter,
the better.
It’s the burn we crave sometimes because while ur being consumed u cant even think about after
If you can think at all.
Survival is out.
It’s about the burn
Tingling your skin,
Taking off the layers,
Leaving you bare as you wanna be
The flicker charming you like a pied piper,
Leading you to the cliff edge,
On the precipice between pleasure and pain
The confusion of the body releasing sweet narcotics
Organic.
You feel it.
The heat drawing you closer still
A blasphemous bonfire of desire
Making you forget all deities but for this one mystifying light
Created from sparks of nothing
Two little rocks
A match
A lighter
Fire.
The smell as beautiful or as rank as the thing it consumes
Leaving nothing behind but ash
It’s dangerous
Not for the faint of heart
Not for the easily consumed
It’s fun until somebody gets hurt
But sometimes the hurt is half the fun.
Play with fire,
Expect some burn.
Grab a match,
Let’s play.
***this piece plagiarizes the organic poetry of the talented Carla Moore who inspires and is inspired by feelings masquerading as words :)
Feb 3, 2009
