somewhere in this moody mist lurks a stifled heart
Perhaps two
passions can, rather than enflame the other, instead temper each other. Give
something that burns back just as fiercely, but that also has other outlets. To
no longer be afraid of being too bold, showing too much, or the inevitable hurt
that occurs when a different passion has you in its grasp?
Two
flames that gutter for a moment, then agree to share the oxygen
i want to
loose a thousand butterflies from my fingertips to fill the world with news of
you
Lovely you
i want to
fold a thousand paper cranes into ten thousand lanterns and light the world
with love of you
Winsome you
(A flotilla
of faery fire to bring the good news:
magic
still exist! See its bright eyes.)
i will do
none of those things, of course.
But i will love you with every scarred and battered fibre of this blasted heart
i’ve got your
likeness there, next to that old rusty furnace, and there it will remain
(funny
thing about that furnace
i thought
my heart had turned to diamond, brittle jagged hard
buckled
under and crushed and compacted beneath the massive geologic forces of
heartbreak
but it
turns out it’s still a lump of coal
embering
away in the depths
keeping
the whole creaking machine going)
So we’ll
circle around that tasty treat, each eyeing the other mistrustfully
Fully
missing that there is enough for both of us
Two flames
in plato’s cave
Will they
ever see aught but the shadows?
Beautiful...
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