My Calamity,
An ever shifting beauty
Esoteric and unnatural in it being,
Like a taste you can't taste,
So foreign none of my senses perceive her.
She.....She.......
She evades any explanation I could give,
A limitation on her.
She—
A blank canvas,
Touched and formed by an Old soul—
A certain Confessional poet —
Who filled her with more truth
Than there is in the Bible.
Raw, Unbridled, Mind boggling
I know I won't survive her,
Yet........Yet
My heart aches to see it all,
To know,
Not to change, but to understand,
To love, to hate, to fight, to reconcile.
It my calamity and I,
Versus
The truth.