Love slips nimbly through my fingers
like a dull scorching knife
Takes all I can’t give


She laughs softly, a lion
assessing its prey


and fiercely, I cower in the corner
like I always have done.


Realism refreshes like
leaping off a ship into clear blue winter water,
icicles prickling my hands


Life floats at me like a cannon,
presses gentle, lovely arrows into my fragile skin


I love until I can’t want more,
but still I do,
the ease and the clarity and the confidence
like navigating a familiar room in the dark.


And I live and live and keep expecting metaphors
but instead I get this logic tied in knots.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 7/20/16

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