Love lifts candles
To be upon each stone
In the winter months.
Lust is the heat, for our bodies to be conjoined,
Like twins with appetite.
Like a spread of corruption, we bite into ourselves
To discover.
So much comfort in the lie,
So much to not ignore
About the mirrored image.
My heart tells me to love you,
The world tells me to love myself.
As I suffer, I soul-search.
As I suffer, I wander
Within me.
It is a lonely path
In a world without true flame.
My form
Has only taken shape through continual desire
To see, within me.
But, love lifts candles atop stones,
Atop the stones that mark each grave.
Love lifts,
While lust buries.
