Burning

He saunters into the room Smooth as a candle wax mold of a finger Pressed with a slight gasp of pain Into the bed of a recently darkened flame Ringed with an angelic halo of smoke Then smiling, he greets her Carrying in his whispered words the scent of freshly burned paper Calling to mind charred marshmallows in summer Newly degraded pleasure His fingers lick at her shoulder Still consuming at every opportunity She smiles back Her lips tight as her freshly lost newness Hiding her still raw anguish just beyond But she keeps her mouth closed She doesn’t say a word as she burns But inside her torn flesh, she’s screaming