She lights a single ivory candle,
the warm heat of the solitary light
coaxes a molten puddle,
in the center,
releasing a fading summer scent -
sun-ripened blackberries,
crisped leaves - the ***** smell
of rain in the heat of day.
The wick crackles like a bonfire,
at odds against it's own smallness.
She glimpses herself
within the tender flickering echoes,
embracing the silence
like a long lost lover.
Here in the midst
of totalities waxing and waning,
she commands the whole world
stills.
The ordered moon already at his post,
on guard with the owls,
and the patrolling bats.
Her companion - leather-bound,
leaf-lined, pigment-starved,
awaits,
ready to entertain her whispers,
to shelter her tears,
to ask nothing.
She tattoos her longings on his tan lines,
in swirls of glittering emerald ink -
it smudges in unwanted watermarks -
each drop a confession
from tender heart-shaped leaks,
forever gilding her vulnerability
with saltine diamond edges,
and he just. holds them.
Softly. Tucked between ribbons,
ready to be opened
whenever she dares to want.