Challenge
Heat
Anything about temperature or spice, naughty or nice. Prose or poem I'll read them all and choose the winner from those who call.
Poison
You rest your warm hand on my thigh. It is supposed to be comforting; a reassuring touch from a loving parent.
I try not to flinch, but I do so anyway. Your warmth feels nothing like what my friends spoke of. Instead, your warmth is but a reminder of a time when hands lingered to places they should never have. Your warmth is a trail of molten lava, slowly making its way to my heart, only to leave behind disgust in the form of ashes.
The ashes, even when blown away, somehow always find a way to return.
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