UNTITLED

I run through heaven with the flames of hell at my feet;

wanton fire that licks and laps it way across, over, under my skin.

Baby, you can keep whatever’s left of me, any part or portion.

If I abandon myself to this, to fall, it’s all going to be alright -

you’ll choose what’s right for me, what’s Right.

Take me, take these smouldering shards that cracked in the heat;

cover me in bites and bruises, blemishes that are all your own

so everyone may know you have me, all of me, owned and branded.

I’ll be scarred by your fingertips, gratefully broken by gentle words

and caresses that scalded, smiles that wounded, and you, always you.

Pretty menace of a thing; even when you leave, you burn -

the after image of your smile like charcoal on the inside of my skull.

I’ll breathe easy when I see you, when the smog of your absence

no longer fills my lungs like your ghost, reminding me of you.

Your eyes are warm to me - like burning coals

or the lit end of a cigarette I forget to smoke, burning down to ash.

Every piece of armour, stripped away and melted down in those eyes,

making a steel cell for every smile;

for every sigh and song and bruise and cruel mistake, for every kiss,

and for the grace we had (keep it safe).

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