first crush

Fireworks crackle in your presence, a presence that I thrust myself into.

The sparks are filled with a great joy, and enthusiasm, and zest for life,
and they cast a halo around
your head, which houses a beautiful brain,
and your body, which houses a beautiful soul.

The sparks warm me. I reach out to touch them.

What if I kept one?

What if I carried in in my pocket with me and let it sit with me all the time?

...

Grabbing the sparks must be unwise...They leave a burning, bleeding hole in my hands.