I watched the flame go out.
It happened so gradually, without last minute sputters and spits.
I sank to the temptation of pretending its warmth.
Instead of naming the dark, I searched for a match.
I spent words striking it over and over but your sweat and my tears snuffed it.
I hadn’t bargained for our skill at juggling dying coals, hadn’t imagined our combined genius.
We lived as ghosts.
You couldn’t see them and I couldn’t send them away hungry.