A Sacrifice of Flesh
If you could allow me once my idle musings, I would ask that my flesh be made of candlewax / I could grant you sight in darkness and my warmth be a greed you harbor in the winter / I could be your breath of relief when the power goes out. Something nostalgic, something reliable, something yours / You could melt me away at a whim, rebuild me anew in an image that pleases you / Drop oils of her scent in me so that I could remind you of her when your heart begins to ache if that is what it takes / Use me / I’ll wax and wane under the tides of your need, my flame will be drawn to your breath, and you’ll eventually learn to yearn for me / You’ll lose yourself in my fire and be entranced by how I flicker and tremble as I obey your steel gaze. I’ll blaze bright and beautiful, half heresy, half holy / Pour me on your skin and wince at the shock of ecstasy—a sweet pain. I, too, can be something you want / And even if you forget me, abandon me to the slow burn of my desire / I’ll still be here. A pool of cool wax worn into the oak of your bedside table, ready to be molded. Ready for second life / Ready to suffer you again / Would that I could be so malleable. Would that you dream of me in this way, too. Would that my soul could endure such
sacrifice.
