a candle burned
flame sunk
into the column
of its body
tears viscous
with lives lost
cum cloudy
with ghosts
of lives
never lived
the ghost of fireflies
froth from the fractured minds
of the thistles
the burning breeze
flakes the fields
replaced my heartbeat
with the syllables of your name
you’re the leaves that foxtrot
with the tatters of a plastic bag
in the blustery corner of my deserted courtyard
become young again
twirled by the world-weary wind
that still remembers how to dance
lamps wore away
at the dark
your songs shriveling
to scent
smoke splices its tongue
more surface area
to taste the dark
fairy lights flickered
when no one was watching
woodsmoke curled to sleep
in the grass
use the scarred skin
of your heart
to scratch a match
awake
then light a candle
in the cave
reveal the stalagmite
and stalactite stretching
dripping
towards each other
eventually
the tips of their tongues
will touch
spark at the heart
of the dark
they share
caves will call
to the sky
sky will become
ceiling
sky packed too tight
bruised blue
needs to split itself open
thunder the wedge
hammered into the heart
of the stone
of the sky
stories to temper steel to
when the story falls silent
the folds folded
asleep inside the blade
your heart
more scar than tissue now
you’re scarring the scars
you’re the green fronds of fire
that grouts the cobbled back streets of my heart
the bright butterflies still being born
from the braided shadows of brambles
blossom become sentient