We charted the lonely contours along one another, 

provinces that may have been better left undisturbed, 

because the shape of lands can lie as longing bodies do, 

familiar horizons weathered into strangers.

I'm still on fire when I'm near you, 

our forms helpless elements reaching and scorching, 

sweeping around the damage we'll cause one another.

When the starless sky settles,

your hand pulls away like warm foggy tendrils receding from dark coasts.

I'll count each petal wilt, 

each footfall down the stairs, 

the ache edging every unsaid word, 

sealing away the fragments we could weave together.

Without eradicating what silhouettes provoke one another with, 

because the shape of lands can cling as deserted bodies do, 

for intimate blazes to take our forms and vows away, 

burning horizons never receding.

I'll count each dimming spark, 

each absence when charting the way your name echoes, 

sealing off provinces we couldn't travel, 

without the other's damage carving its mark.