Burn Gently, My Dear

My hands were not made to war.
Nor my lips for deceit.
So I will love you,
and be forthcoming even when unpleasant.

You are fire and I am water.
Emotions rage inside you—
white and hot.

Love is a consuming fire
in your bosom,
that will not be contained nor doused.

I am the quiet brook,
among the thick brush.
Love laps at my banks,
softly and steadily.

I can never douse your inferno
and you will never exhaust my pool.
So burn against my cool ripples,
that we may defy everything we know.

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