The heart of a Phoenix

When we lie together
on that sacrificial bed
wet with the evidence
of your love I sometimes wonder
if the sheets are charred
underneath my body.

Almost everytime
a fire kindles
in that deep place
I hide from the others
when your hands go there
and your lips
are here and you push
your heart toward me.

The air I breath
in that
almost every time moment
fans the kindled
flame into blazing
fire and I lift my hips
and try to escape
it's burn.

Keeping my eyes closed,
(I can see you better that way)
as my temperature rises
and my breasts fall into
your hands the layers
of who I pretend to be
incinerate,
become ash and I scream
to feel the loss
of what I present,
the smoldering corpse,
the shame of being me,
if only
because your eyes are open.

Holding my breath
I fear those charred remains,
so I laugh
to hide the fire inside.
Giggles grow a new veil
thighs tremble and ache
for more of you
than I can afford.