Quartet kisses, slivermoon afternoon.
I’m trying to form the right words with wooden tongue,
But her tongue of flame might crumble mine,
Ashen between my teeth.
I’ve kept a book of spells,
Tucked away for times like these,
When I’m all lock and key;
A hex for spreading wings and opening.
If I can’t translate honeythoughts to willowords,
Know that I’m all inkstained for it.