the half- moons in your fingernails
fell that night, the soul
within your nail beds
filtering out with the grace of god
and you shuddered as they went,
wishing you'd had
some kind
of warning.

that grace,
it surrounded you
like silk, there was a candle
in your chest that flickered softly
just waiting for someone to notice
its quiet and tender smoke

and when desire filled you up
some nights, you held a violet close
to your heart and dared it to catch fire,
watched it turn to dust in your hands

this ashen life,
you couldn't find
what you searched for
in the sand -- you bit your lip
and cradled your own brokenness
in your palms, the heat from those
blue eyes tried to keep it warm
and my god i wish they had

because that morning,
when you kissed me?
i could feel the ashes
sparking on your tongue