24.4.10

Moth

Georgia rain shower,
taptap like a million knuckles knocking,
synchronizing with the
thudbeat
of my heart.
I think in that breath of breeze
there was a sigh
even as it kissed my cheek:
cool air and sweet salvation there
to redeem the reddened, blush-burned skin.
You left a stamp of warmth,
and by the flames I am singed.
But every flickered glance
was worth the pain of glory.

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