The rust speckled door knob
Keeps hands from warming its heart.
Shattered glass and splintered pine over an open roast,
That ignites a simmer in my own heart.
A tear climbs hesitantly down my cheek like a rock climber scaling in defeat,
Whispering to himself don't look down, don't look down.
The crackle and sigh of the burn,
A sigh so loud the smoke filters out a misty white.
The flame grows even thicker,
housing a furious red.
A hand comes to my back,
And pulls me in tighter
So I don't have to watch it all cascade away
In a climax of pain and ashes.