A mosquito drawn to a lamppost

she convinced herself that he

was a glimpse of heaven.

what kind of a metaphor was this

in her weary wandering mind


carbon and flame

how could someone be one

and the same

as the blind hands that strangle her

and the blinding light that draws her in

she couldn't possibly understand.




Somehow she'd promised him

to love without wanting or needing

but candles need tending

or else they'll burn out

she lived in pitch black.


Brown eyes cloudy,

staring gently at ink words

delicate fingers turning crisp pages

reading of triumph and goodness

she thought of him

but was he the prince

or the fire­breathing dragon?


Fears and failures


beauty and blue eyes


she was blind


mesmerized by the siren's song

a gravelly male voice

that somehow still

could draw her in

time and time


and again.


A mosquito drawn to a lamppost

searching for beauty

flying too close

will sizzle and

burn to forgotten dust.