m'sieur,
who burns and shines,
bringing me joy
as a happy coincidence.
You,
the dark-haired Apollo,
the lithe Adonis,
the living Enjolras-
you are a fire
lucky enough
to take roost
where the earth cracks
and something rises
to feed a flame.
Burn still,
for what I thought would damage me
has left no trace-
and now I wait out
the end of this spark
that I might befriend the fire in earnest.
Reste.
S'il te plait.
No comments:
Post a Comment