She waits beneath the chapel’s broken glass,

where silver rain runs down the iron gate.

A blue light moves beneath her skin like breath;

he sees her smile and knows he will stay too late.

She speaks his name. The wires in the wall

begin to hum as though they know it too.

He wants to touch the hand she offers him,

but keeps his own still, watching what she’ll do.

She steps so close he feels her through silk.

“Come nearer,” she says softly. “If you dare.”

Her fingers hover just above his heart;

the current finds him even through the air.

He cannot tell what pleases her the most:

his longing, or the care with which he hides it.

She laughs, and for a moment he forgets

the open door and all the dark outside it.

He knows how moths mistake a flame for stars.

He knows the heat will reach them where they fly.

Still, when she turns and walks into the nave,

he follows, keeping one hand on the door.

Her touch sends sparks beneath his guarded skin;

then smiles and waits until his fingers fall.

She draws him to her side, into the night,

and he lets go of the door after all.

Draevnn Motkova