Dont complain

Of a wiltering garden

Full of weeds

If you never tended to

Or watered the seeds

There you joked, striking me.
Fun and joy,
it overwhelmed me.
I joked back, striking too.
Word to Word we played and danced.
Time drew, as we pushed and pulled,
burned and pranced.
The flames danced. A dangerous one, warm to us and us alone,
We went on and on.
Midnight came, yet we still played.
Tired and full of bliss,
we slept at a distance ,
Falling in each other modern arms.
The norm was not the norm with us,
We where different,
A dangerous different.
But did we care?
NO!
And so we embraced in our puzzled form,
which only us could see and feel.
Dumb and dull, words outside our ring rang,
Yet did we answer?
No!
... Or was it yes?
Did not matter, I was lost,
Our words no longer clashed and pushed,
No force was spoken or seen,
Even in our puzzled form.
The norm had struck and now was seen.
Our circle clasped, the flame disburse.
It's heat lingered and stuck.
Dull and hurt, I now grasped,
blinded by all.
Striking nothing,
I fell deep,
becoming one with the abyss.
Black.
Void.
Senseless.
Deeper and Deeper I fell.
The lingering flame clawed and struck,
Reaping me slow till nothing stuck.

It was a summer I recalled, in between my first and second,
Where the flame of youth had burned out.
And now with my beaten senses dull like norm,
The metal dug itself at the back of my mind.
A final swig of societies trust and a sharp known grasp of metal,
The lingering flame had finally died out.