casting shadows in transitory paint;
It's all vanilla and dreamland,
Heavy intakes and whispered sighs,
And the most elusive of secrets, like
Your reflection in his eyes.
Cold and curious hands dip
into molten wax-
drip and thicken
even the coating,
relax.
He's holding something fragile,
though I doubt you'll let him know
It's glass, and soot, and ashes
memories of the flames before,
and while dangerous,
still vulnerable,
to easy extinction at the core.
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