I wore you on me at all timesLike I now carry my pen.Unlike your own opinion myBelongings must have a function.You bled through the ink of my lines andTo be my subject nursed your thirst.Was it my fault, or your own, that you forgot—I do not deal in tender verse.

For that short space of time, she forgot she was sad and a little afraid. She let herself forget that after tonight, she might never see him again and that if she did, whatever it was between them would no longer exist.When he deepened the kiss and his weight pressed her against the ground, she forgot everything, losing herself in a wave of sensation that carried no threat, inspired no fear, and belonged to no one but her.

We quenched the bulging flame, amongst the ashes embers of fire remain