When we were kids
we had the habit of overlapping
each other
Faces slick with amber heat
over a bundle of sticks
we were trying to light into
something else
At night every star looked
like an angel’s face
taunting from afar
Your wrist brushing over
my forearm
as you fell back with defeat
from the childish flame
blinking in and out
Close enough to feel
the pulse of your life
running parallel to mine
I held onto you
When we were kids
we had the habit of starting fires
when the wish ran too deep
to make out loud
