I’ve had this snowflake.

Something so delicate,
pure and unique,
resting upon my open palm.

Such preciousness,
I’d never want
to lose it to the passing gale
or the spiteful sun.

So I held it in a clench.
And I’ve held it like that
ever since.

In my fist,
forever it will live.

Never again
will I hold it
in an open hand.

Because I’m afraid.
I’m afraid if I did,
then I would know,
for sure that it had gone.

That it had melted
by the warmth
of my grip
and slipped away quietly
through my fingers,
and into the night.

It bears a secret,
so immense and heavy,
it’s worth a thousand keys.

And laden like a million treasures -
all locked in a lone chest.

To write of it,
taboo.
To speak of it,
blasphemous.
But a taste of it,
heavenly bliss.

So I bear its secret...
One that paints grandeur
and weighs a lifetime.
And it’s worth my every breath.

tears that run like a raging river...
carving into the skin and flesh.
herald the birth -
a gorge that eats into my heart.

see its wound...
look past its depth
and acknowledge the damage -
a beautiful destruction
that only speaks of
the unforgiving nature
of such salt laden streams.

laments that echo cries
of unbridled pain and hurt.
yet soothing like a hymn -
a sung and hummed
profession of loaded promises
and careless whispers.

a hurt that has latched,
etched permanent
and dissatisfied onto the heart...
a pain that knows no peace
because it’s known
limitless love.