it's when i see him,
his moonlight poured out onto a canvas
waxing poetic
and spinning with the ground, turning the tides.

it's when i see him,
his honey head an slow step in his movements,
that syrup from the bees and
honey of the seas.

it's when i see him,
his wax now beginning to melt,
that burning
in the stomach that means the candle is out

and i am out with it.