Unfinished Business

I have been scorched
napalmed many times over
But I advocate ignition
hounded by your flame
Still it’s a spark in vain
the fire is spent in just surviving
as you tease the moths hived in my heart of wool
Trying to chew their way to a certain freedom
hollowing me from the inside out
with a constant need
to meet your flicker
And maybe I should reach
for some subtle relief
but I lack the energy
to birth the electricity
that would stop the burns
from overtaking me entirely
Besides...
The fire is spent in just surviving
I want to feel the heat of good advice ignored,
taste the bitter char produced by indiscretion
taste the spicy nectar that is you
You, with voluminous beauty and keen intuition,
that singes layer upon layer
of my skin.
Until I am dried-
brittle like fallen autumn leaves
that sweep under restless nomadic feet.
As I prove to be merely a medium
unto a muse
I suffer so,
yet I compose this gift that I have been given
As you prove to be merrily a medium
to leave me bemused.
A gift unto all men but me.