He is a fire. I fell in love with his eyes, How they're like chips of charcoal The space of a spark away From igniting... I remember how he first held me- How he murmured in my ear, Speaking words like a whisper of flames... But the whisper of flames is always Accompanied by the crackle of burning logs As they collapse- I never made the connection that the whisper Of his voice in my ear would mean I'd have to Listen to the shatter of my own heart As it cracked- My heart was a clay pinch pot Molded perfectly to the shape of his palms- I told him to keep it close to him, Not realizing that he was not only The creator but the kiln- His heat snuck into all the cracks And weaknesses under my surface, Until I smashed into a hundred tear-shaped Fragments under the pressure because he- He is heat... And I was always too fragile not to get Burned...