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Saw you playing with the lighter.

Flame on.
Rush of ignited gas; interest sparked.
Yellow fire, red glow.
Eyes alight, a hot flush of face color.
Flame off.

Came a little closer.

Flame on.
Your fingers orange and translucent, passing fearlessly over the primal force trapped temporarily in a plastic capsule: fire in your hands.
Little streaks of smoke now across your fingertips, but unscathed; licked, but unconsumed.
Flame off.

Came within reach.

Flame on.
You can’t see me beyond the circle of light.
It only makes the darkness darker, but you hold it up: a tiny flaming torch fuelling that sudden burning anxiety.
You are not alone.
Flame off.

Shit…shit…shit…
The little frantic sound of sparks failing to fly extinguishes my approach.

The memory of firelight in your eyes is masking the materializing shadow: so close, so near, just here in front of you.

Flame on.
Hello.
I am the smoke that always comes with fire.
Flame off.

 

NEXT ENTRY…

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3 Comments

  1. Menacing. Exquisite. My new favourite.

  2. Well done… though scary o_o

  3. one word. WOW!


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