Burning

I met you in the winter, and I remember

Your hair scorched like autumn leaves.

Like a fresh cup of coffee on the skin,

Like embarrassed, flushed red cheeks,

And like the suffocating stage lights.

I wished I could be half as bright as you,

Half as warm and welcoming as you,

Half as deep-fried meme-ish as you.

But before you could teach me,

I had to hand you the paper towels.

And we became friends.