The Heart of a Phoenix

When we lie together
on that sacrificial bed
wet with the evidence of your love
I sometimes wonder
if the sheets are charred
underneath my body.

Almost every time
a fire kindles
in that deep place I hide from the others
when your hands go there
and your lips
are here and you push
your heart toward me.

The air I breathe
in that almost every time moment
fans the kindled
flame into blazing
fire and I lift my hips
and try to escape
it's burn.

Keeping my eyes closed,
as my temperature rises
and my breasts fall into
your hands
the layers of who I pretend to be
incinerate,
become ash and I scream
to feel the loss of what I present,
the smoldering corpse,
the shame of being me.

Holding my breath I fear those charred remains,
so I laugh
to hide the fire inside.
Giggles grow a new veil
thighs tremble and ache
for more of you than I can afford.