oh where is your inflammatory writ?

sweat
I feel the space between us
as it presses itself into my thighs.
It is hot and full of emptiness.

Where our mouths once met,
leaving us wide-eyed and hungry,
there is nothing but a ghostly imprint.

I lay wrapped in a mess of tangled sheets
with a heart that beats much for nothing,
licking my lips hoping to taste you there.

What I remember of your face
is embossed somewhere between my eyes,
it fades as though left bathing in sunlight.

My insides once churned and boiled
as if I sat upon a molten surface
but I seem to be dormant as of late.

Like the smoke in my eyes,
you're a painful reminder
of the vices I find myself running to.

I want to know what it is to burn,
to glow at the center where my ribs meet,
and to fizzle and die into the night.