“Lynne”

Scorched by the fire,
whose friendly face masked flames
that scarred and burned twice, three, four times.
Searching back again for the warmth
‘til finally cold seemed less a burden than heat.

She slipped on the cold, iron mask
tightly over her face, and heart
and stood apart,
distant from the fire.

Unfeeling, but unscathed.

Until he came
reckless abandon, with no fear of fire or flame.
Daring provoking, pleading, prodding her
to race through the tingling fingers of the flame.
Dragging her to the precipice of all she feared
and all she longed for.

He took her hand in his
and leaped into the fire.