Burn.

Somewhere between burning and burning out,
there is a moment of stasis.
When you float on the currents
as the heat blisters and your edges blacken,
crying out to everything, anything, something..
for succor,
A single teardrop to bring relief...
A flick of holy water from unworthy fingers..
Take of my blood my body hate me love me live through me burn me burn me out.
And that final moment arrives, when the limit has been reached..
been breached..
Suddenly and without warning,
It.
Just.
Stops.
The chill soaks through your very bones,
another kind of burning.
And you miss the heat in the absence, the lack,
consumed by the chill your blackened edges freeze and blow away.
And at that moment...
for one Sterling Silver second,
there is silence
as a crystal mural of ice hangs in the air.
Haunted and haunting, you wrap your tattered edges around yourself,
licking your wounds
in solitude...
Warm me adorn me defile me beguile me give me up give in give it to me.
And wait for the burn.