What is this thing called love
That we bludgeon it like with
sharp objects we prod its outer layer
We prick it
We shove in it
Search the core of it
It deludes us
We are dumb to it
It stirs with laughter at our shortcomings
It surrounds us into itself
We drown our response
to play coy with it
It is a toy
like a baby with a string that can
choke it lifeless
Laughter stopped
drops of tear splash on the toe
like a heavy burden
It walks through us and
we miss catching the needing
Enveloping with it is in the bones
It craves us until it holds us and cradles
like vines with thorns and soft
Love?
No comments:
Post a Comment