Tourmaline

 He becomes warmth and the smell of 

Fireplace, wafting up the staircase, 

I used to wrap up in his sweater 

When the winters got too cold

Now I wrap him in the air

The heat, the silence; whatever I can give

To say thank you like a prayer

And I stake a fence around him until

I am a post, quiet and still

Cold in the frozen night, a sentry outside

His bedroom window, 

I want to be your peace and I'm sorry

Because I am not a fencepost

I am not a bookcase

I am a woman

Blood running dark with deep desires

Cold in my fingertips and 

Visions of tourmaline eyes

Let not the stars bear witness

My criminality is my own sentence 

To serve, I am 

Want and need and nostalgia's 

Favorite haunt, a guileless fiend. 

Got very inspired by the Macbeth line and went at it.