Before:
middle:
After:
Hm ..
I lie here and watch you dance with fire. Not to say everything that orbits a man or a woman between the flames chains in the dark. It does not matter, only "dancing with fire" that such a worn-out image. It does not apply. Whether Herd or a torch, I look at you and it's not enough.
A turn of the wrist and the flames change direction. A swing with your arms and they move in circles. Her hands together as in prayer, and it shapes like a glowing ball
fire is more symbolic than anything else for me, even more metaphor than matter. I would stop just before the meaning and then burn me at the candle.
I see you play with fire and see no sense in which I ever knew. I look through the streaks and know only you and the flames. No fire is in me. The spark jumps across not.
your body - beyond words, whether naked or clothed - and before and behind and next to draw a second figure of fire lines.
I come tumbling to a stop because I want to touch you, and maybe the flame shape. In fact, I can not deny, I want to get it, what unites them.
coming closer I see myself in your eyes and it's the saddest sight I ever saw.
"It is often understood the meaning," it resonates in my head. "Without understanding every word like."
And it's not the fire or you or "What do both," but all three at once.