The wick of the candle brightens up the darkness
of your bedroom. It leaves me to see only your outline
approaching me. Her name curls off your tongue
like smoke, twisting its way down my throat, leaving me
unable to breathe. Yet, you are unfazed. Why,
why can't I breathe? You say her name again
when you kiss me, like you never kissed me before.
Your hot breath burning the skin on my neck,
your touch scorching me, trying to make me her.
The whisper of an 'I love you' is echoed around
the room, with no response back. I close my eyes
so I won't cry. Not now, not in front of you.
When my eyes open, the candle is only
emitting smoke as I look for you in the dark.