His fingers knead her,
longing carved into a poem,
a sea ready and aching
to burst into a soft weeping flame –
then touching her lips he lights her
the way a candle touched by a spark
becomes a well of light –
he lights her,
his opiate breath sustaining
her slow burning flesh,
the fiery beatings of her inebriated heart –
he lights her
and as a candle in the night engulfs her,
her light fluttering
the endless landscape of his heart,
open, surrendered,
becoming what she is,
a being made of light.

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