Her hands were always warm, even in the coldest places

And the smoke staining the back of them seemed more like steam, to me

Enveloping her in a fog; consuming us both in a tangible visage

Of the chasm between two hearts, two minds, two souls.

But there we were, a portrait of polarity

Stark and freshly baptized pilgrims

Striving to close a distance of our own design

Separating two hearts, two minds, two souls.

In that moment, if left to my own devices

I would’ve let the words spill like blood from my throat; I would’ve let it ignite me

Like your fingers did when we were so much younger, so much cleaner

When we were nothing but two hearts, two minds, two souls.

Across the landscape of tangled sheets and white-washed lust I heard her speak-

“You’re cold, and I burn”

And I fought to utter the three words

That could join two hearts, two minds, two souls.

But the syllables were caught in the space between worship and love,

And the cacophony of our passion snapping

Drowned out my good intention

For two hearts, two minds, two souls.