By the Burning of Candles

Lost in history are the marks of our skin, intermingled with the worlds we have been. Where must we escape to so the wounds can heal? Lost in the nighttime where comfort is found, safely in my dreams, I climb with you. 

A safe haven away from those who have harmed us, into the arms that love us. I lay with you, under this light, unmoving, at peace once more.