It treated me good enough,
living my life through chemistry.
Until I met a wildfire
and begged him to rid me of all other remedies.
I'd trace the veins of his arms
and watch as lightning danced in his eyes-
I swear, if perfection was illegal,
he'd be doing 25 to life.

Devotion comes as natural to him
as the marrow does to his bones.
But me, I'm a wretch
and such a storm is my only home.
Stuck between the cracking concrete
and a...