if all good stories are told around a campfire, then let me build one in your bones.
we can use the pit in your stomach
where you tell me you keep
all the dark things and
butterflies pinned to the wall,
an exhibition of all the faded loves
mounted and sealed behind glass,
where they can’t hurt you anymore.
i want to see the shadows move across
your lips like herds of wild stallions
impossible to catch, but beautiful.
and as the embers die, and your skeleton
cools in the midnight velvet breeze,
i will bundle up the museum
cataloging each piece with my own descriptions,
showcasing strength and compassion
where you see faults and weakness.
tell me your stories out here under the stars,
let my bones light your bones,
and the rattle of bare souls singe away
the loneliness of the fall.
All photos by Wulf James
Written by Ryan Cassata