From Tongari
the first time I remember you, you're blonde and don't love me back.
I wish it stayed that way. but soon You're brunette
and You do. It's the sweetest thing I've ever tasted.
Your brown hair was like hot chocolate in autumn,
wool gloves in the snow,
a candy store in February.
it never occurred to me that
candy rots, gloves get soaked, and chocolate residue
pools at the bottom of mugs like tea leaves.
then, You're a red head with fading freckles and a consuming love.
i stay because i feel responsible.
maybe loving me is just as addicting as loving You.
i stay because that burning is intense, yes, but it
reminds me of past candlelit dinners.
warmth and heat are one and the same, aren't they?