He is full of fire.
Reds and oranges and blazing yellows,
Passion for everything.
Yet he denies it.
He says he feels nothing,
Claims he cares not;
But he can't lie to me.
He is full of sunsets.
Golds and pinks and royal purples,
A beauty so reliable,
Yet he forgets it.
He says he is nothing,
Claims we care not;
And I can't change his mind.
He is full of night.
Blues and blacks and pinpoint white,
A depth of velvet ink,
Yet he doesn't see it.
He says he is shallow,
Claims he is cold;
But I can see the kindness.
He is full of fire.
He lashes out,
He burns.
But he warms,
He protects,
He lights.
He is full of fire,
But he's lost in the dark.
