moths at a campfire

Q-Tip18

They come out of darkness,
Drunk on fire and jealous of it's heart. A single pass at stolen kisses from the death hand.

He finds his ledge and begins to ready his mind there.
Raised wings whip and strain against the billowing heat.
His eyes fill up with water there.


He goes plunging like a rain drop into the ocean
and swallows the sun.