I think of the wish
whispered
into a wine bottle
at the end of a party
I wonder
when will it break
be set free
granted
will it be
when you most
need it
when your life
in more pieces
than the glass
than sand
just before the kiss
push me back into the world
like ghosts do
when the living get too close
the scent of skin
too much
they push away
because they long too much
for what they’ve lost
they want you too stay
in the world
you because
you don’t want to hold
what will be lost
you’re the moth-eaten moths of memory
the torn tapestry of my life
its seams of moonlight
scars become skin
smoke splices its tongue
more surface area
to taste the dark
silhouettes pirouette
with the shadows
of marionettes
replaced my heartbeat
with the syllables of your name
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
the cry of church bells
across the city
serpents of scent
wrapped round your wrists
stilled by all the sunlight
held in your skin
summer did not live
in that summerhouse
winter and spring
braided themselves there
worn away with waking
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
scarred skin
doesn’t collapse
when carved
all my taps are dripping
the sun froths and flares