The truth of a real fire.

[kamet]

Cold, cold.

Is that all there ever will be?

So sick of looking around corners,

between fences

for an illusion I glimpsed so briefly, so long ago.

Hope teases like a playful lover

kissing, then leaving me in the dark.

Shivering, I wait for the only warmth that can soothe.

Where does this frigid forlorn come from?

The antithesis of the heat I crave-

How has it taken me over so?

My single flame fears the snuffer

without having known the truth of a real fire.