Heat transpires in souls
like embers ’round an open hearth
burns brighter than midday.
Embers leave fire’s warmth
until flesh is burnt yet etched
above the skin are memories of
For fire gives light and fire destroys
so will souls left to the mercy of the wind —
devour what has once existed.
Each breath only adds to that of flame’s
and embers decide which goes and which stays.
If passion is fire, we mere moths must conspire
an escape plan.
Only then will these scars be beautiful.