Putting out fires

All our small moments;
Bright and tiny sparks.
And the wind
just right
for something to flare up.

I wished you to be more than a fitful, restless fantasy,
more than a hungry gaze
or a deliberate graze
at a party
of my bare shoulder.

Soon you will be gone,
and I will work long into the night
dousing the flames you left behind.
But I am not so good at that

I haven't been trained in hoses
and break-lines.
I will be black and charred
long after I have smothered the fire you lit here.