A candle burns low on the window sill,
no wax, wick left except
enough to smoulder,
enough to remember
Moments in black and white.
No sound, no sound expect
her voice her laugh her breath.
No feeling in my arms-
every feeling in my chest-
from clutching her so tight.
All contrast with raven curls and skin like cream,
no gradient, no warmth except
the blush flushing check to chest
and her mouth,
with that forked tongue of flame.
Then no glow, no stars
no sun, no light except
for the hundred candles, asking
begging for her to return
and prove it was love- not revenge-
that warmed me.
Tears- the first since my mother-
spill- and there's
no answer, no answer except
you need a second chance,
and a second chance
is the thing you won't have.
There are no second chances,
no second chances except
the one holding me,
and it's enough to remember
Kodachrome: every colour
and no blurs, no blurs except
his eyes his fists his feet.
No air in my lungs-
every molecule for him-
because I couldn't breathe without him.
All sharp with razor instincts and a fuse
no softness, no softness except
for hesitant words
while the car was licked by flames.
Then no laughing, no partnership,
no words, no words except
"You put in your transfer,
I'll put in mine."
And I was shaking
-not from the shock or my anger-
but because he proved it was him
that warmed me.
Tears-the first in my presence-
spill, and there's
no comforting, no comforting except
a hand on the shoulder,
because I'm scared.
You've only ever cursed and kicked,
Now your grip tightens and I freeze
no movement, no movement except
you settling back to sleep, and I try
to follow you back under,
but the last of the light illuminates your face,
and I am transfixed.
You, with your experimental hair and little snores
that no one, no one except
you could make me love so ardently.
your acceptance your friendship your love
that lets me breathe,
lets me extinguish the candle
and lets me live instead of remember.