[Feedback Request] Char

Char

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Warmth strokes my hair as I sit on the hearth.

Cross-legged in my blue dress,

My fingers fiddle with sparkly tassels made of cheap fabric

and I am a princess of six years old

roasting marshmallows on gas logs next to the king.

“You like to char them,”

He tells me with a chuckle.

My eyes widen, fretful at the torch I created.

Gone in a moment with his breath

and I am safe,

unaware of how vibrant that flame will flicker in my memory

or how much it will burn once extinguished into smoke.

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https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/9wfoyt/untitled_being_a_section_of_a_longer_work/e9ohrr5

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/9w6ah0/i_dont_believe_in_love/e9ohyn1