I do not wish to quench your eternal flame.
It is what makes you
you.

I have seen your eternal flame
nightly as you sleep
coming out of your open lips
pale blue.
If I didn’t know you,
I’d think you were holding
a can of lit sterno between your teeth
and having dreams
about heating roast beef.

I have seen your eternal flame
when we walk in the meadows
char the hovering blue birds
into fallen piles of ash
when you only meant to say,
“Oh, bluebirds!”
and set a dirty river on fire
while inner tubing.

I have felt your eternal flame
when we kiss
burning deep into my lungs
like terrible heartburn
(and leaving blowjobs
quite out of the question).

I have heard your eternal flame,
the whoosh of natural gas catching fire
when the pilot light has gone out
and you need to light a burner on the stove.

I have watched the saving power of your eternal flame
as you used it to weld metal
on a structurally unsound one-land bridge
in a remote area of Rhode Island,
saving literally tens of people.

I have shared the joy of your eternal flame,
toasting marshmallows with it in our backyard
watching as it lit the wick of our newborn child -
a scented 9-pound red candle of cupid you birthed
that left the obstetrician so confused and the
maternity ward smelling of cinnamon.

No, I do not wish to quench your eternal flame.
It is what makes you
you.