Coal 1

A burned piece of coal,
darker than desire,
only trace of my heart,
lying in your hands.

May you see the heat,
and feel the life,
left somewhere inside.
Will you carry it,
or let it die?

Will you nourish it,
make it burn again,
slowly with ever breathe,
hoping for more,
hoping for life,
from the darkest places?

Cause, after all…
Fires are made of coal.

Edit: Corrected "hopping" to "hoping"

one that could have been mine and one that couln't