for c., in retrospect.

I.

I curl my toes into the dark
and fold my body until it is shut.

You, soft-eyed and apologetic,
my quiet fire, my nameless love,
you want to open yourself up
and ignite, want to burn ourselves
until we are consumed by flames--

but my skin has turned to brick.

II.

You have given me light--
light to sink my teeth into,
to drive fast with, to dive into
deep water, light to grab and hold
and keep within me, light to
blind me, to guide me, to melt me,
light to seize with my hands
and swallow and whisper to--
you are mine.*

III.

Our expiration date hangs like a scythe,
like the sharp claws of God,
like a knife, waiting to chop the wick from this candle
and turn my nights to ash.