my heart is made for warming
my words are meant for screaming
my mind is an autumn sun,
and my soul is a winter moon
you said i am a spell
waiting to be conjured
you move within my madness,
fingers lingering between my meanings
i ask you to pick your poison,
and you choose the heart,
as if it is the safest choice
but didn’t my kiss of crimson
already leave you with scars?
have you already forgotten
what it felt like to burn?
-ashley jane