Cinnamon Candles

I feel you through the sweating air.
You lounge upon my spectral wind.
Your tongue splits in an exposé.
I skim your lips and feel astray.
You hold the smell of sweetling nights.
Your ardor chants in tender bones.

Only you build cinnamon shops.

We dance on those pine floors of your abode.
We sing in slurred tones from rafters on high.
I recite to you my poems of old.
We twirl together between hanging fruits.
We lay together on the rafts of hay.
You record to me what your heart requires.

We build these caramel walls as one.

Your light burns dim in morning din.
You look upon as if I've sinned.
Why do you change and flicker?
We hold each other with one touch.
We whisper only terse goodbyes.
Why do I feel it's time to part?

I hold the smell of sweetling nights.
I blow you out.