To feel your flame fanning my feet. It’s these little moments for which I live. As long as I can do this, it is not so bad that the pages of my calendar have turned to October and the marble floors are a frozen sea. As long as I can do this, let that inevitable cycle go on again and again.
‘Long as I can turn on the heat.
Staring into a volcano; getting lost in my thoughts, wishing it didn’t burn to feel you so close. Like the rain, you make me find words in my head very deep. Our chemistry helps me breathe. Here, nothing matters. My Raynaud’s is forgotten. Just as pumpkin-cinnamon-apple-spice is a cliché, you are worth the repeat.
But I’ll run away. Unfortunately, sometimes, I’ll leave. Nothing’s perfect, you see. Though the moment equals infinity, your flame is short-lived. Promises should be eternal. I’ll be searching for the conditional warmth that your current brings across other unconditional seas.