Catharsis

When you thought to place me in a box
did it occur that I might not want to leave?
Safe, secure and free to dream,
I languish in your categories.

You keep me neatly filed away,
compartmentalized by your narrow mind.
Classified according to my smile.
I’ll let you think that for a while.

One day when dreaming is not enough,
and when your pigeonhole has grown
too narrow for my fluttering soul:
I will simply turn and walk away.
And you will have to notarize,
that I escaped because I could not
be tidily organised, into
an acceptable realm of experience.

You brought me roses;
pink, and yellow, and dark red.
Hastily snatched from the garden
of an old lady, who smiled and looked away
when she saw you. She remembered
her own rash loves.

You brought me roses.
The scent of them filled me,
and drew my heart, and soul
into a spiral of pleasure and perfume.
Right at that moment I glowed
with love for you and for us.

You brought me roses.
A sly thorn had worked itself
into the tender flesh of your palm,
as you clutched stems in fierce excitement.
I teased it out with a sharper thorn of silver.
Then I kissed away the drop of blood
our love had made you sacrifice.

A desolate wind, scattering
unfulfilled birthday candle wishes
across the land;
back into dark swirls of yesterday.

The memory of what has been,
lays engraved and immutable.
Even silvery potential
tarnishes, in the soul-stuck realm
of regret and dark imaginings.

Those razor-sharp fears
of improbable things,
block the path
to new beginnings.
Solitude brings only
the phantom despair,
and demon misgivings.

I can’t sleep.
thoughts of you
crowd in my mind.
Vivid imaginings
deep and dark as sin.

The memory of your eyes,
and the thought
of your breath
on my skin
send me spiralling away,
into my own fantasies.
Your words linger
like soft traces
of exotic perfume.

Your face in my mind,
your eyes in my soul.
A dream of your touch
on my heart,
distractions.

I once loved a man
with a wolf in his eyes.
he was born to the wild,
independence was his deliverance.

Restless -  even in slumber,
his soul perpetually wandering.
I could never hold him
with my solid and sure existance,
with my comforts and closets.

When i clutched too tightly
he turned, snarling,
frantic as thoughts of escape
clawed at his fierce, free heart.

Biting with his kisses,
bruising with his touch.
And in the voice of severed ties,
he reassured me, softly, softly,
while all the time in his eyes
freedom flickered.