my love, yet not my love

tarot card visual

i'm not like anything
you know.

for one,
i gather the fabric
of what you do to me
in two hands

and like a
lovesick bird
the air,
i wring from it
a flight,
my beating heart

like a velvet wing,
launching toward
the taut sun, the sun
of your face.
i wrap my wrists

in the fabric
of this feeling,
twisting,

midair.


-----
i give up. it's over. i'm not sure what i've been holding, but i give it away. i surrender it. i give it over. I WANT YOU. i cut my lips on wanting. my eyes are wet with desire. i'm cracked, dead without you. come to me--come back to me. don't punish me with your distance, the fact that you don't know any of this--i call to you--you must know, you must understand, it's been years, and i've tried to tell myself that it isn't real, that you don't mean anything beyond a symbol. but you grow in my heart, white rose. my heart which is nothing more than a black lake and a black sky--i don't know what you're doing there--i don't know how you survive there, and i don't know how to make you mine...

i dream of touching your lips with mine and it's like the world shimmers and then shatters completely. how can a surrounding world be black and white and yet filled with gold and silver? i long for you. it's that simple. it's that terrifying, and completely irrational, but--

in a way it's ridiculous that i write poetry at all. i'm in many senses a very rational person. i don't believe in succumbing to what i can avoid succumbing to. there are other reasons for it to be ridiculous, such as an intense lack of personal experience, but a lot of it has to do with that, that i just have no problem with forcing myself to the point of zero before i'll allow myself to experience ANYTHING. and even then, i just want to get it done. i'll admit to this love. i'll ask for her to come to me. i'll acknowledge that my need for her is stronger than the fear that i'll hurt her irrevocably. but only because it seems the only logical solution to the issue of what i feel, how i long, how it burns to want her.

stupid capricorn passions. practically impossible to ignite; even more impossible to MAKE GO AWAY. i guess i don't know what i'd spend my time doing if not this.