first love
there are marks made
in the deepest parts of our souls
the parts that were sleeping before the fire
and sometimes
with time
flames fade
and winds blow away ashes of the past
yet latent
buried and often forgotten
first love still smolders
still heats its core
and scorches the again sleeping soul
yes, flames burn out
but sometimes
like a sleeping sun
nearly dead, nearly cold
they smolder
awake now and again cold deep heart
breath fire
