tegori

sometimes I am tall and stern unsmiling in my power full of spine and spines and sometimes I am feather-soft silver leaves sprawling on the soil awaiting feet and fingers for my blossoms sometimes I am a bitter brew, swirling and full of dark moon prophesies and awful knowing and sometimes I am beestings milk golden sweet and saving precious things each season meant to take its turn each shift part of this spiral dance of life and love and hurt and hope and death and me: both tomb and womb of these conflicting truths some mornings there is sunlight some mornings there is fog or frost or thunder and black waves no moon is always full all night skies keep graves of their own making graves of their former selves

In my burning rage and the epitome of your calmness, We found a way, To burn more each day, To laugh afterwards. To make each other smile, Cry afterwards. To make each other conscious after years of being unconscious And then, To take away all of that consciousness by running away. I ran away. You ran after the idea of me I left behind. And we never saw each other again after that day, Except in every dream, Every symbol we once knew well, Every word, Written and spoken, Every sound, Heard or imagined. And it was never good afterwards. We wren't good. We became evil. We were so good to each other that we turned each other cruel. Vile people have we become, but this poison once tasted sweet from your lips to mine, I could swear it a thousand lifetimes. You said I ripped your heart away from your chest, but that was the intention all along-to possess the only thing that loved me, ever, truly, utterly, completely, that loved me enough to devour me whole and make me come alive. I couldn't