If my lips were wicks
and my lungs fuel,
and my heart a cannonball,
I would kiss you
until the sparks and heat
ignite
and a rapidly expanding
cloud of love
fires my heartball
from my chest
to your breast
and the whole earth
bursts aflame,
and we waltz
out of this coffee shop
on cinders,
ash falling like snow,
our Vesuvius of passion
flash-firing bystanders
into pillars of salt
in the postures they held
upon the moment
our magmatic love
met the world.
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