and however much i know of these, yours,

and however much i know
of these, yours, feelings
i left upon a doorstep, left
burning but not stomped
out just yet, let them ash–
and however much i know
of these, i cannot say
with certainty you will
one day, upon a time,
long for me as i long
for you– i know you
never will, yet how
beautiful the flame
upon your step,
brilliant blue, as
blue as bent sky
shrunk to see
in palm–
thinned to fragile tip,
rays of sun, anchored,
stretched to spread
weight of air to rise, to
spike in chance of
‘scape– breaking

yet what use is a light
in day’s time, keep
such things for
need at night.