Even when neglected, it
manages to flourish within itself.
It could survive without
air, rhythm, soul or thought,
because it’s in every movement we make,
affirming itself again. Breathing. It lives.
A muscle twitching around my mouth,
the way your words un-weave my former
guarded self like a careless ribbon,
thrown to the wind; forgotten.
One gesture from you to me could break
Northern lights into midday dawn.
Your burning stare,
Igniting it again. It’s wild,
I cannot stop.
It’s as normal as
the everyday miracle.
Two kindred souls
locking horns.
Fighting a guerrilla war
of minds meeting their match.
It belongs to us.
An orb of power in our hands-
ours to hold, and ours to destroy.
It’s a timeless story to be play out,
to end in tragedy or hopeless joy.
Prickles on the skin.
The longing that comes
with the doomed lover’s lonely night.
Sparks of electricity.
Love; Understated…
In it’s simplicity.
