gods you make yourself

what makes this what it is? your words and the wants they claim do little to write away the way we are. and yet they try, lacking sense beyond the laws you draw from tablets scribed by gods you make yourself.

on paper you extinguish ambiguity with the candles. I resign to the bed you've made me. but I turn off the lights and you're there: warm and soft and reaching for me in the dark. in my arms you heat my blood like secrets or the songs we sing each other. ambiguity prevails. you hold me through my dreams. I melt into your compromise once more.