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.
