the door swivels
and you hobble in.

what's the matter?
you're fro-zen.
come in and sit by the fire.

oh no --
your fingers are white
like the lace on your waistband.

who did this to you?
tell me as I make you some coffee
no sugar, no cream.

your voice is scared
and I try not to turn red, turn over in my skin.
I tried to slow my heartbeat for you.

I am not the dominant figure here.
I am the helper, the healer, the envelope
sealer, the stone.

you are the flame
and I am the wood.
you are always welcome to burn me up.