candēns

 

faint quiet fingertips — feather light on skin

like lightstreak peeking in between curtains

drawn shut. I’d never felt such warmth within,

this body was always encased in ice.

​

oh but your hands — fond, ardent, bruising

marks burning into innocent hipbones

pressed into sheets I’m this close to breaking —

one step short of a fall into unknowns. 

​

though I desperately want — for I’ve missed

the spring; will I be lost if I fall too fast? 

the whispers insist — I’m weak to resist

I’m all I’ve hidden:

                                ablaze everlast.   

​

will you break me as if I were pure glass?

perchance then I’ll find paradise light-cast.