I like bugs, rocks, and the color of mud Earthy critters who scratch and plod their way up my spine Your walls were lovely to talk to and disembodied hands may be comparably so to hold But I did not dare move to do so
I’d sing soliloquies for your amusement I’d transcribe your affections, Better than you or I could ever feel them So frangible and infrequent Yet blazes like the Eternal Flame, Your windows verdant and of the Earth; a mane of ribboned russet Your bow is steadied with precision Whose compass surely does not need or require me Nor mine yours
You must be fond of honey hair that twists and turns and splattered spots uncorrelated Scattered across the face Plump lips that pose in anticipation For words spoken in jest and sincerity Oftimes conflate and converge Conceive a certainty two would only know Should they only recognize in a mirrored flame
Both deny and protest but surely Both magnetic and bewitched by the other In a fashion that is both sinful and edifying Subscribing to no particular Sect or Order But this imperceptible tug is a religion of itself is it not? The feeling of enlightenment and the fervor Is unlike any one thing experienced by men and Devils alike Feverish and decelerate, It is a slow and radiant burn Such assumptions may feel erroneous and presumptive But unquestionable at your core nonetheless;
Maybe suffering from days long since gone by will Collapse any hope I have to have you You said you rarely get what you want So let me give it you
Because you have ****** yourself You have made yourself a prophet, and so it shall be self-fulfilling I imagine that you’ll never have it Perhaps a ship whose voyage is lulled, slow and shallow will wash onto your shore, tired and hungry you will feed it As it takes from you So you don’t have to feel as much or as affectingly As I make you feel, with roots so entangled and abyssal This I have known, because I am inclined similarly Just as two positives will never meet, Just as Endymion and Selene, Gods of the Moon and Sun Cursed to orbit and never elope
I have been orbited and have revolved around, But never loved or in love; so I wonder If it would consume us or hurl us forward Into a void of which there is no escape Instead of ruminating on what may Giving into it and surrendering
Never experiencing the frailty Of something that touches one’s essence For fear of being changed forever
To the Sun, it is more convenient to love the Clouds, and the Moon better suited to love the Sea, because they may touch more closely
And never wonder what could be.
We've all felt something so visceral, and just outside of our reach, and wondered what could be. Suspended in potential. This is that.