A warm winter
Did little to protect my breath
As everything you are
Permeated through my lungs and chest.
An icicle settled there,
And I began to nurse
My own blue flame.
As the days shortened,
The wildfire I felt
Crept closer and closer
To the home where I reside.
My windows serving as a picture frame
Protecting a future projection
Rather than any close memory.
This blue heat spread,
And I felt the pages of my story
Fly into the wind.
Tattering and disintegrating
With every twist and curve.
Rising higher and higher still.
Everything I am can be everything I was.
Preserved in a telescope
Of blue light
As an example
Of habit and home.