One toe, then all five, and then ten.
She’s come, stepping carefully into the bed that I create.

Soft, but terribly hard.
Every night it is this way.
I smile, wishing she could see;
that she could know, I would wrap her up, had I the arms to do so.

Heat; the allure.
Sinking carefully to her knees, then to lay on her side.
Her feet, calloused, and blackened with resistance face towards the flames.

Her dreams are peaceful; wait, they are not.
Her toes clench.
I rub into her as the pressure of her dreams forces her legs to move.

I feel sad.
Her dainty feet, tainted now, yet I cannot pull away.
The grey of me stains her.
Shaking the nightmare away she moves closer to the fire.

Her dishwater hair passing ignorantly through me.
I cling tightly to every strand.
Particle by tiny particle, pieces of my heart leave the hearth.
Painting her cheeks dull, and her feet rough.

As she sleeps, I analyze her.
As she turns her face into the ground I see her eyes.
Behind her swollen lids her eyes do not move quickly.
Her sleep is light.
Shame twists within me.
Laced through her lashes, I see myself.
Almost like snow, but not quite good enough;
not beautiful or crisp enough.
This night will be no different than the rest.

I attempt to cover her knowing the fire isn’t enough.
I tarnish her clothes when all I wish is to make her warm!
Frustrated and unhappy for another night, I do not move.

When the rooster awakens and he screeches his nasty alarm;
I feel her sigh.
She is aware enough to know that although it is yet dark the day has begun.
With a certain mock fluidity she sits, kneels, and then stands.
Making no sound I scream as I break.

Leaning back she shakes out her hair, letting it fall past her waist.
I fall to the cold floor, warm in places from where she heated it.
She braids the strands together, sometimes enveloping me.
As she stretches I continue to drop; from her arms, her shoulders, her back.
Bending forwards she shakes me from her apron.
I fly far and close and smash into the floor.

She throws more wood into the fire;
blowing the coals to recreate the flame.
As she turns her braid whips  air behind her,
and she walks away.
Leaving me with myself as the air slowly leaves me,
and I dissipate, every molecule of me settling somewhere else,
upon the floor where she slept.