In The Bosom Of Fire

I am afraid that I cannot believe you. For the fire as yet to blossom between you and I. I yearn to stand closer to the warmth of you. The blaze that burns bright in the center of your chest. Time is of the utmost for we are but smoke. Dissipating into the air, Short of breath. Not sure how to react to the surprise desire has sprung upon us. Yet we tremble in a world left cold without the warmth of touch. None of this is a lie as we've yet to exist. A unique dream without shape. Concealed behind the stare of longing eyes, until this fire between us crackles bright red in everlasting bliss. Therefore I am not afraid to reveal to you the mystery of this metaphor