It’s odd this
This idea of
Rising from nothing
When things begin
It’s a firestorm
Ignited and fueled
By desire yearning
Fanned by winds
Of the newness
Of you your
Taste and touch
But when it’s
Over and we
Both lie in
The dusty ash
Of the other
When our landscapes
Lay barren exposed
And decimated maybe
Just maybe something
New sprouts a
Comfort knowing that
We’ve survived the
Wars of love
To be friends
Maybe something new
Quieter and better
Because we’ve learned
Who we are
For the other
Rather than ourselves
