Sunday, March 27, 2016

Tumultuous

You are the most beautiful storm I have ever seen
          And I will always be the ship sailing into it.
Under every wave,
          Trying to catch a glimpse of who happened to you.

Trying to unload my cannon-fire into your crests 
          To soften the blows of the past that I'm an innocent in;                 You never crash into me hard enough to damage,
      But always just enough to leave a reminding sting 
                 When we get too close.
I'm constantly on guard.
As much as I am frightened by the realization 
               That you have the power destroy me completely
          I love it even more.
Stop trying to contain my wildfire!
     Forcing me to flicker into a simple flame.

I feel like I'm at the helm holding up my secret box of                        Unopened love letters.
Fodder from this wounded soul;
I wonder if you have any idea how curious I am to know 
          If that smile you gave me was a ploy 
            Or if I was as pleasing to your eyes as you are to mine.
I want to be drunk on your nostalgia.
I wonder what would you do if I randomly grabbed your                      Hand so I could dance with you 
               In the peaceful symphony of silence 
     That falls over the world 
         When you touch me in the kitchen 
                                  As my favorite song plays.
I wonder what kind of thoughts keep you up 
                 On a sleepless night; 
How you take your eggs or if you hate them like I do
          And how you take your coffee.
What your biggest regret was,

        Or rather who.

  Trying my damndest to give them to you and to show you that I'm real; 
               But your waves just dance around me.
Refusing to acknowledge anything except for 
       The pain of my past avoidance.
You must understand this:
      I am terrified of sparklers,
          And I always knew that you were fireworks.
And now that I'm here you won't play fair.
Trying to push me back ashore.
Stop trying to wash away memories 
                That haven't happened yet.

What makes you tick like the broken clocks you collect
             As if you're Captain Hook?
Or perhaps you're just the Unabomber of hearts
                     With your dynamite lit at the wrong end.

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