FLAME

You are fire, in an open field
Bleak conversations bring terrors in my sleep
As I dream of your face
Are you real, are you just an escape?
Do your flowers carry buds of thorns?
Is there beauty hiding behind the front?
A flame, yet, you make me pale
You make me wonder-white
I end up doing things in spite
Then you go and change my mind.
Like I am a toy, and you're my maker,
So unkind.