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Candlelight
Candlelit fingertip patterns,
she sees him in shadow fragments
under the blanket in her bed.
She's the princess,
and he's the prince,
of their cotton fort,
crowned with fingertip halos
and butter knife kisses
upon their shoulders.
She imbrues ink stars on cloth
and hews paper diadems,
grazing his face
tucking in the crevices.
They carve wands
out of pencil shafts
and animate the stars and terrain
until they speak in
soft whispers
that reverberate through
the valleys he's crafted on her skin.
Their cotton fort is strong,
standing in a forest of shadows,
but his dallying hands
are her armor as they
fall asleep by candlelight.
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