BURN

Every time he hears your laughing, it grows,

wicked thorns without a blossom.

Every time he gazes at your eyes, it grows,

wicked thorns without a blossom.

Every time you gift him with the laughter I so adore, it grows.

It expands and grows.

He adorns his head with them like a garland.

Oh, how I long to set them ablaze alongside him.