I know when it is
I am burning –
when the sparrow
in my throat
bursts free from
the fretful gravity
of kisses nearly pressed
but not
and when gazes
glance away
from what has not
yet been but is almost
said and left to hang
between
I know when it is
I am burning –
when on the verge
of crumbling into dust
I find myself at precipices
and am far too fragile
to bear your touch
without incineration
but if at night
I may find my boldness –
and peace in being
still beside you –
then I pray time
will consume the day
and love bend
light away
© Sarah Whiteley
ebbtide 