With a steam
powered heart, I waited
for another
of your late
arrivals and pretended to know
better than to fix you

but I can

never help myself, detached and in love, holding

space and bartering
for more coal because maybe
you were going
to be the last lover.

Or the last
who needed me
to believe.

Believe
I caught
every hum and crackle
of energy you ever gave.

Take
what you need–
There is
steam enough
to power at least
one of us forward.

Return if you find
more
time to burn.

I can

never run out of matches.

I will continue
from here.