your love set me on fire,
his gives me wings.

when does the night become us?
at what moment is the soul raised to the sky?
death, say some
and some ask why

the stars are dead,
and because we watch them miles and miles from where they rest
we are still fascinated by
these flames that hang in shapes and forms that make up our night sky

but what if our night sky is really not made up of bones?
if the stars don’t dwell on our dead bodies or take pride in a corpse,
I would in fact believe that
the sky does make up your soul

I do believe your heart's the moon
and constellations map out your veins
so when they ask if our souls look down from above,
I'll say I'll ask when I see you again

I removed myself
And walked right through
The gates of hell -
I saw it all - blazing in flames
My sins before me -
Like two wolves on my porch
That came back
To devour me.


-- Eleanor

i shift
farther from freedom
when fueled by these flames.
i laugh
frightened by the fiction
that is a fabrication
of my favorite friday afternoon.
i grin
but it falters; it fades -
faster than my fears
on a quiet morning.
i freeze

Rising, twisting flames,
Ruby golden against the shapeless night.
Bright enough to drown out the glitter of the stars,
Thrusting higher as they devour shadows.
They reach for their distant brethren.

This is why we burn and we fade
because we are mere gasoline
attracted to flames.