I have mosquito bites on my inner thighs

The itch reminds me of winter nights

Under your scratchy cotton sheets

Where it was you biting my thighs.

It was like you were scratching

An itch that had been burning deep

Down within my skin.

The relief was ecstatic, electric,

Encouraging me to open myself wider

To the possibility that I would never

Burn for anything again because

All the fire I needed was contained

Within your eyes and those eyes told me

That anytime I needed to burn I

Could just go to you and you would

Show me what fire really was.