i.
axel is pyrolysis -
he is the spark, the heat, the scorch,
leaving crackling ozone in his wake.
his eyes are the green of premature apples,
bone-sharp angles, skin tasting of pennies beneath the tongue.
his body is quasi-formed shapes and his hair is gore,
torrid red spikes and gangly monster limbs.
his inferno burns as fast and ephemeral
as summer sparklers.
roxas is the wind;
he is the air, the oxygen
affixed to the slick lining of axel's throat,
flowing through four cardiac chambers into
veins, nerves and arteries until
the rhythm pounds in his ears.
axel looks at roxas and he can almost breathe again,
feel the weight of fresh air entering his lungs,
flowing from pulmonis to alveolus until it warms the vacant cavern
buried behind his rib cage.
roxas is oxygen and axel is fire,
and the flames burn higher and higher and higher.