Curiosity became synonymous with me,
I held a secret of the Gods in my mortal hands,
But I am only human, how could I resist?
Just a peek, a small quick glance–
An irreparable mistake.

I was given a box that weighed less than a feather,
Said to contain inconceivable things
From the hands of Olympians to me on my first day on earth
I knew no better than any other mortal woman–
But they say I should have been wiser.

I was made with curiosity in my nature,
And humanity forever scorned me for it.
I gave us terrible things, it's a truth,
One I can never change nor repent enough for–
But I gave us one gift we could not live without,
I gave us hope.

In every moment where the tables turn
Where the gods do not smile down upon us
But smite us with their might–
We still have hope.

You may blame me for many things,
But never forget I was forged by the gods
And it was they who placed that box
Into my eager hands.

Love makes a home in your heart
Carves dens out of your
Flesh, blood and bones
Welding each vessel into itself.

It's a tapestry woven into the soul
Not a garment easily shed or replaced
No mere band-aid, but a sacred mark
Etched upon the very essence of your being.

Love becomes a parasite
And when its had its fill
Love begins trying to tear its way out
From muscle and marrow.

Though when those who mean well say “let it go, move on”
Something so intimately branded on your soul
Will never simply just release its grip
It’s like drowning on land– an invisible, silent killer.

As love finally loosens the hands around your throat
Those phantom fingers, slithering off your skin
Relief is never the feeling that follows
Love leaves lingering devastation in its wake.

Tearing out its roots from where it nestled in your core
Releasing its toxic venom into your bloodstream
A final wound to make your heart bleed and choke
On an internal murky bath of blood and tears.

The extraction leaves you feeling hollow
With love clawing out caverns deep within you
You are left with the remnants of a once cherished host,
And an emptiness that can never be filled.

After Edgar Allen Poe’s “Bridal Ballad”

In a distant meadow lies my mind,
     To get there, I cannot tell you how;
Twists and turns make it hard to find
But if you're lucky and the path is kind,
     Perhaps it will open for now.

Fields of dandelions are where I hide;
     When spring blooms, come make a vow,
For on the wind our dandelion wishes ride–
Tell them only to the withered ones who died,
Be honest, the only rule you must abide
And only the weeds will know if you lied,
     Do you see it now?

It does not matter if you mean well,
     I sometimes make mistakes in who I allow,
Are you poison or passion? I cannot always tell,
So you may come to stay but do not dwell–
Don’t be the one to turn a paradise into hell,
(And of my secret garden do not tell,)
     If you do, I can see it now–

Wildfires— the flames I cannot tame,
     Confusion, pain and anger that furrows my brow;
Putting pesticides to primroses is such a shame,
My daffodils lament, they cry for who’s to blame,
     Oh, I see it now!
Does such sorrow, such grief have a name?
     You must see it now!

When you turn my meadow into a burial mound;
     Where seedlings will not sprout— they can't remember how,
You turn it into a place where no dream is found
Where no wishes or vows can be bound,
And where loves whispers dare not sound
     And I can't see it now.

I walk through this world blindfolded,
echolocating my way with just your heartbeat.
Each pulse guiding me through blurry lines,
making the world around me pellucid.

And though your heartbeat fades so soft–
I follow the breadcrumbs you leave me,
reminiscing in the times it was deafening, now
ultrasound, hardly there at all,
perhaps only a dream.

I may be vampire–
But what I crave is something sweeter than blood.
Only you would do, my favorite chalice,
such a decadent delight, sweet honey on my tongue,
the taste of your love I used to drink till I was drunk–

Now my thirst consumes me, such hunger becomes me,
with no true beginning and no true end.
I glide across the starlight, seeking you out
with my echoes in the dark.

On gilded wings I soar to you,
no matter how your fickle feelings wane.
The sound of your heart is still brighter than any flame–
It illuminates my way, and like a moth I follow.

But all fires burn out in their due time I suppose,
no matter how eternal their light seems.
And when too close to the sun,
all vampires return to dust–
no matter how immortal their dreams.

We just watch
While the world slowly burns
Wishing for rain to cease the fire

Whilst others wonder
Whose body lay where
Which tomorrow they won't see

We sit in our mundane
Worrying for trivial things
While the world slowly burns

We don't think about the worst
Wolves won't be blowing our houses down
Why should we care?

We aren't the ones who mourn
Who stand in rubble and waste
Where once stood our homes

We just watch
While the world slowly burns
Watching wolves prey upon the sheep

They say as you grow older the friends and lovers you held close to your heart drift away. They never say how slow it is. A phone call every day becomes once a week. Soon just a text or two, then nothing in unnumbered days. Months pass by until you realize you've lost track.

We used to be written in the stars–
I swear it.

And I can't decide; were the fates miserable to give us so much time only to take it away– or merciful to let us feel it at all?