At the risk of immolation

When you break a bulbous drop perches itself in the corner of your eye
waiting to chart the path of unleashed emotions

Those eyes become shimmering sheets at the mercy of,
reflecting the pain of old bedroom mirrors

No dewdrop is wholly new
fed as each is by smidgens from previous nights

growing in pennies strained from
the inequitable taxes of a shared life

Then you let it trickle or gush
and fetid things run down your puffy cheeks

He twitches, shifts, mouths half-eaten mumblings
Leave me alone, says your voice wadded with grief and phlegm

and he says what doctors say when they can’t save a life:
I’m sorry.

Enough to wipe clean, start afresh
give another chance to that incorrigible demon of habit

It is forbidden: like toadstools, or candy from strangers
yet you do it

What flames you let singe your heart
what burning you endure

Just to feel what it is to have loved
at the risk of immolation