ash

I have fondled this fate
before,
juggling the juicy mounds
of my fantasy
and delusion
in the air
like grenades
waiting to explode
in my face.

I have found
the death in doomed love
to be cold
yet comfortable
in a terrifying way
and the heat needed
to thaw my fingers
and revive my soul
must be handled gently
and with great care
lest the heat
become a fire
that becomes an inferno
that threatens to sweep in
and leave me nothing more
than a pile
of ash.

I wish
to survive
so I might
be burned
again.