warmth cocoons around me,

curled about my body in a C,

wrapped over my skin like a cloak.

From the wall I hear the velvet whispers

of a sweet secret,

smoked slowly like a cigarette in the dead of night,

with only grey clouds and glowing ash as evidence,

scattered by the wind.

The taste of fire on my lips

is warm.

The alarm that sounded at 5:30 AM

was not.

It was cold and brash, screaming at everyone

to evacuate the building.

I heard the pattered footsteps of the lovers sprint

out into the dawning rain,

neglecting the shroud of shame,

they embrace, and keep each other

warm.

And so am I

lying on my bed flames.

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