Love envelops me where sense of self comes to save. Two in night. One in day. Moons carved into flesh placed upon stars. They come alive beneath themselves and beyond the light. In my sleep I find myself in different forms. Different voices all reaching for my hand.
I understand my soul so I continue to breathe.
It is a chain around your neck. It holds you. I thought chains could be washed away. The ones we made for ourselves.
Summer. Summer. Like you, a red beast but gentler.
The falling of two. Not in the night. But in the midst of suns gold strokes. You could not look away. Your intensity. Your seeing me. If only I could capture it.
I am always trying to convince myself that I do not want it. I do not want you. It is like a crystal I see through, I see myself, and I see the other side. But it is hazy. It is not my reflection nor your body. It is myself without my sense of self. You wash me with the wind, and I fly away.
Angel of death and peace fight, falling farther and farther within themselves. Darkness creeps through silk curtains. In the mirror my eyes are shadows of themselves, beneath sunken hues. I light fire upon fire to keep you away-and yet my tears fall as you turn your head from me.
You come to me, soul in hands. I see only your hands, pressed outwards, asking me to come to you. And I suffocate your soul with the weight of mine.
Two becomes one. Without separation of selves. Lost within the other, in order to forget themselves.
I know only the truth in fragments. Everything changes. I know myself and then I do not, I know G-d and then I do not. I do not know what I do not know.
Night passes deftly. Shadows walk my walls. Until it fades, the lights and disquietude. I blink and she is gone.
You are not my eyes. Not knowing, not touching. I see it there, in the way you hold yourself. You do not know what love tastes like. Or maybe that is I.
Golden wings. Angel wings. Chunks of gold to be coated with. A statue in the breeze salutes itself. Summer light protrudes the dark. You say you are not my eyes. Just a statue of stone. Who takes my gold. And I fill myself back up.
And where does evil go when war ends? Why does it prey on skeletons? Ones already gone. With emeralds and sapphires. But they took those too.
I do not know you
I know only your shadow
and you and him are not the same
How much do you suppress? Little angels. Little mothers and fathers. To blame it all on mothers and fathers. Without angels, just shame and the becoming of another self.
You talk with abstract motions and I know you are impartial. This may be the most beautiful thing you do, your looking at everything as if it is a mirror. A golden framed reflection passed to you, always telling the truth-and with empathy.
I heard about love. That it tastes nice and makes them feel special. I wonder why it hurts sometimes. I wonder if that is love.
My mind fills up with all that I cannot say. To you. To me. I long to feel how free I am. How trapped I am. I hear too much and it hurts me in all different places. I thought I lived with the wind. I thought I was able to shut it out. But you are in my ears and you are loud. It hurts and I want to cry. I want to cry shamelessly like infants do. I want to feel and I want it to stop. I know this is a feeling. It will blow away. Now though, it is everything.
Down she walks through gates and tunnels to the place where everything gathers.