Thumb + Button = Combustion

You are the flame I carry
everywhere I go.
No matter
who can smell you
on me.
Only I know your name.
Butane cylinder
That changed my day.

You hid in my pores
And folded yourself in the wrinkles
Of my clothes.
It wasn’t quite burnt apple
Or the smell of fabric softener.
It was softer, more distinct.
I could only refer to it
As you.

No matter how many times
I wash my clothes.
Scrub my skin.
I still smell you.

A thumb to a button
the roll of the spark wheel.
Then you appeared.

My skin, the flint that folded you up
And carried you everywhere.
Building enough heat
to make my insides
yell your name to the world