there are embers that I protect because I promised to do so until I die

yes, it burns my hands but it just doesn't hurt anymore

         It’s like she became my muse a century ago
             and I never stopped seeing her there.
             I kneel in that place because she lets me—
             she does not let me go.

For her
it means safety
not from me,
I'm too lovely,
but for her soul
her heart,
the only thing
of which
I am still a part—

It's quiet and away from their hands
away from greedy fangs
protected from wiles
slithering seven legged insects,
those creatures are vile.

But I protect her,
I have fangs too and
I guess that never changed
because I breathe sharply—
short and anxiously
restless sleeplessly
and with no apology.

I don't know what this means to God,
but I really do not care,
I would slay even him
to protect her from them.