Hey.
Hey you.
I see you over there in the corner
Exhausted and gasping for breath
Wind smacked and back punched with all of the life out.
Get up.
Come over here.
Feel my hands on your chest
Palms pressed certainly on the cotton of your shirt that thinly veils the almost-zero space between my tinder hands and your blazing heart.
The Thomas Fire burned more land than they’ve ever seen.
As the sky looked like the coming of days, my hair smelled of teenage days and nights by the lake.
It’s funny how innocence and the end can seem the same.
Your breath,
It’s steady.
Then faster and sure
You grab my hand, pull me down the hall, out the door.
Stopping in silent shadow, you find your good sense in the pit of my mouth.
And my stomach
And your palm on my chest as it smolders in the wake of your innocence.