The sweet gritty aroma of wood turned ash clings to you

Just as I cling to the thought of you

This fragrance, is tangled in my hair

Unwilling to be washed clear,

A yearning, burned into place

Singed into my memory

Left only as a lingering shadow

In sight but yet untouchable

Sensible and yet intangible

 

My warm skin a sharp but welcome contrast

To this cold I feel inside and out

How can I be cold when I am flushed?

When warmth radiates from my flesh

When my heart quickens and my breath catches?

Yet cold I am

Cold as the tears slipping past my boundary

The sharp contrast of a cool streak

Left against the pink swell of my cheek

 

How can I fix this breach?

To keep the cold and warm apart

As they touch, they dull one another

Opposites colliding in beauty marred by pain

The warmth and cold, alone and together, are real

The smoky aroma haunting me is real

The memory, the longing within me, is real

All is real

Except the shadow of you