Poetry is turning out to be a very cathartic medium, I should do this more often.
Set the Mood
It was a cold night as I sat by the fire pit,
Unlit stood my sticks and kindling as I shivered.
The sound of crickets fell silent upon approach,
Of footsteps light and careful on the ground.
She brushed my shoulder gently as she passed,
A torch in her other hand ready to light my fire.
Oh how warm her touch made my soul,
The flames of love were enough to shield me.
But no, she wanted to light my fire,
And so she did with all due caution.
Striking the flint and lighting the wick,
Patience in every careful placement of fuel.
I reached out to her and pulled her close,
Orange tint kissing soft skin, accentuated.
What more could one need than this,
The flames of love, fueled by passion?
Oh how the heat brought comfort and joy,
As we locked our gazes in unending bliss.
Words unspoken yet understood clearly,
Communicated in little more than a kiss.
Setting the night ablaze with our bodies,
Every touch, every taste making it brighter.
Engulfed in love's inferno like hellish nightmares,
But this was nothing more than a sweet dream.
For the nightmare was returning to cold,
Knowing what it is like to shiver lonely.
Don't let the flames die out my love,
Engulf our souls in entwined blazes.
There are too many people in this world sitting by unlit fire pits. They have the fuel, they have the capability, and yet they do not set their logs alight. The biting cold of loneliness causes them to shiver, and stubborn pride plants its roots of stagnation. Light their fire, or invite them to stand by yours; you won't regret it!