Bodies
Fingers find my flesh
Brings me close to the threshold of
Until fire melts the silk to steel
And all is anger
And noise
And dust
And silence.

I am yours, flesh of mine,
The salt of skin, like salvation,
Brings me to my knees.
A fine line
Between what was,
And what will be,
Is drawn.

Wring the truth from nothing, flamewright
And scream until you die
In an inferno
Rock and salt
And the lips that curve around your name,
Stained with fleeting wine and blood.
Like an open, empty hand.

Penned by my hand on the 17th of Lleian, in the year 119 MA.