Candlemaker

First place winner of the Synapse Storytelling Contest for poetry.

Hello, my sweet candlemaker
Please! Let me tend to your wounds.
My dear, I’ll lick your fingers clean of soot,
Kiss your callused hands,
Bandage your knuckles rubbed raw and ragged. I wish only to hold you, to warm you,
With this flame that you alone may nurture.

How do you do it, weary as you are?
Harness the flames that rage inside me-
A treacherous wildfire scorching the earth barren. Tame this beastly inferno that roars in my belly, Soak up the fuels of my spite and sin and scorn And spit out waxes of affection and grace.

Oh my love, how can you bear it?
To carve out the crusted embers in my sunken corners- From the curve of my spine to the mold of my breasts, Fashion a wick so gentle yet staunch,
And let me blaze for eternity.

An arsonist gifted to a pyromaniac.
A candle forged from the candlemaker. I did not ask and yet you answered
As you always have.

The deepest act of love-
To bend, to blister, to bow
Against winds of rain and sands of time

So that I may burn forever.