Come closer.
I have been sick with the weight of waiting,
with the cold that settled in my ribs
when your hands were not there to warm them.

Lay your mouth against mine—
not gently, not softly,
but like fire meeting ice,
like something desperate for survival.

I have wandered through nights
where the sheets were glaciers,
where my breath curled like frost in the dark,
where my body ached
for the heat of you pressed against it,
for the fever of your skin
to burn the sickness away.

And now, you are here.
Flesh and warmth,
hunger and cure,
the only medicine I have ever believed in.

So let me drink you in.
Let me drown in the fire of us.
Let me burn,
and burn,
and never be cold again.