burn the witch but keep the broom

i need to tell you i love you

like i need not to

but can nonetheless as the moon does

to the sun sometimes during the day

as a freckle against the blue waves

that reach towards the sky and stars

even in the smallest of cups

*

i am nothing without you

for even this devastation

is built around absence

of a body that does not react

to the realization that a witch

being burned alive knows:

the forest wood underneath

always smells more familiar

if from home

for it is soaked in your sloppy sweat

and the days where you worried

about having to belong to us