Every place where you touch me still burns
Not in a bad way, no, not that at all
They burn so beautifully. Even the small
Point where you brushed my hand now yearns
To feel that fire again. My body learns
By swift degrees to love the heat. I fall
More madly for you while I feel the gall
Of my skin burning. It's as if pain earns
The right to look for pleasure - or as if
The pain itself were joy. If I were cool
And unaffected by you, it would be
So different. I wouldn't be the fool,
So awkward, so incredibly...stiff
But as it is, I burn. It changes me.
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