Keeper of the Flame

Your cowardice makes me laugh.
Don't write if you don't want people to read.
Happy belated Valentine's Day.
At last, at least.

But I too hesitate.
Like Azeth, the Egyptian.
We are all chained to brass.
Attempting to pen the past.

I only appear in support.
And vanish only in your weekly fear.
But I am living in heavy responses.
I am still here.

Put away your cold water heart.
And your Indian-giving hands.
Whose fingers type and then hide.
Just be and keep the flame like me.