Warming my hands at this fire
while wearing kerosene gloves;
I've never known how to be
really cautious around love.
My deepest thoughts left unspoken
and never given a name
will persist in silence unbroken
even as I burst into flame.
This is a poetry blog. It's like a journal, just not in prose. It should hopefully be its own defense.
Warming my hands at this fire
while wearing kerosene gloves;
I've never known how to be
really cautious around love.
My deepest thoughts left unspoken
and never given a name
will persist in silence unbroken
even as I burst into flame.
You glide through my mind
like a ghost, passing through
my walls
and rearranging my
mental furniture.
Orbs of light disturb the corners
of my thought
and my dreams seem
to run strangely
hot and cold,
but there's nothing
tangible to hold.
I don't run from this haunting
in my brain--no.
I like to be in whatever place
I find you.
I learned no one would save me from myself
but me and decided
there was something I had to be,
and this would not be my
supervillain origin story--
but I still have a secret identity.
The feats of strength like
lifting the weight of my dreams
changed me.
No cape, just a torch
the Statue of Liberty coul not rep.
And dropping it feels like arson.
With great power comes great--
etc.
But no one else has to know that.
My greatest enemy does, though,
and she has been
burned.