There was a beauty in her brokenness
the way an abandoned church is spiritual
beaten in the fight against her nature
submitting to the ivy
She was self-destructive and potentially poisonous
but she was my punk rock goddess
and I, her poet-slave
muse and mistress
I knew I was doomed to heartbreak
nevertheless
I took the bold steps toward my apocalypse.
Her name is Catharsis – the Sun.
I am Icaris’s wax wings.
I can’t get too close or she will burn right through me.
It’s a defense mechanism, she says
she’s crazy and I should fly far away.
I should heed the warning
but I don’t.
I’m drawn onto her -
inked by something more than animal attraction.
I am a blood-lusting mosquito
and all I want is a little bit of her inside of me.

She makes me want to write metaphor heavy poetry.