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Magma
my heart smoulders,
the gas-infused crimson surfaces,
leaks out,
hissing lava snakes
down
from my snow-veined summit.
Fresh love has begun to mend this wounded cinder plain, where my forest stood, whittled to the bone.
Reborn dreams
stack up,
flow upon flow,
uncurling
their tongues
to steam
the twilight air.
Prying mists quarry this brittle crag-rim'd volcano,
scuffing boulders into the molten heart-core.
Reclaiming syrupy ripples shimmer off the evening's breath
arcing ladders from this midnight sun,
keeper of my flame.
I love
The way this poem flows like lava, red and hot with passion, with more piling on top, higher and higher. I love the distinctly erotic undertones and the way the poem is formatted. You have great style!