Logophobia

Is she really on fire?

Or is it an illusion . . .

An illusion spawned by the wind,

Or the sunlight,

Or my tears.

I view the world through saltwater lenses,
My life is an infinite stream of cadenzas,
Some are improvised,
Some are fights for my life,
But life is only an illusion, right?

Like her.

Like her fire . . .