It’s as if you’re pulling your fingers through the darkness within me
with all your words and your voice and all of that art
and the desire
to burn all my bridges, to sail all my ships
to completely surrender in the face of the deafening noise
my heart makes whenever I’m around you
and I’d like to run out
to scream at the stars, to cry at the moon
to damn the sun for setting without taking me with it
this shortage of breath, these tears burning
so secretly behind my eyelids
are they symptoms of hope
or a prayer (don’t leave me here alone)
wasn’t love supposed to taste like freedom?
Far worse to be Love’s lover than the lover that Love has scorned
Love,
Winterdragon
