gilded wedge
You feed my hunger,
the one I thought was too cavernous for the world,
the one I was told to starve,
that clawed through my ribs,
gnawing for proof that I am not
a wildfire that devours
every green thing in its path.
You gathered my flames in your palms,
no fear of blister or ash,
and told me I am warm,
Showed me how even the hungriest fire
can warm without consuming.
So I hoard you like the last ember in a frozen world,
pressing the glow of you deep into my chest,
to keep the world’s cold hands
from stealing what is mine.
Call it selfishness; call it madness.
But you—
you make me believe
this hunger is a blessing.
I wanted to keep you in jars,
lightning in glass,
your laughter sealed for the nights when silence
felt like the edge of a cliff.
I thought it would strangle you,
this urge to hold on so tight
that the world stopped spinning,
but you called it beautiful.
You said, “hold me tighter.”
Perhaps we are both fractured mirrors,
but when I look at you,
I see the clearest reflection of myself.
And if this is madness,
let me never be sane.
dark coral
tropic dawn
cunning galleon
forest citrus