Impatient fear— drawn like breath toward a love-sickness
too familiar; where even longing feels rehearsed.
Still, we wait. Too patient, perhaps, for the One who
might finally make us two.
But how many hearts have crowded this same dream?
How many lips have whispered their forever's into ears already
echoing with empty promises? Love, the great alien—always
arriving in disguise during first encounters, glimmering strange
and radiant, only to rot sweetly in the mouth after the kiss turns
to memory.
We taste the ache, to call it devotion...
We call the wound a lesson.
But what of those—the occasional monsters; who no longer
apologize for the shape of their hunger, who wear their
shadows like a second skin, not in shame, but in acceptance?
And what of the world, when two such creatures find each other?
When neither runs, neither flinches—when their broken pieces
match like puzzle scars?
Do we call it love then, or chaos? Do we fear what is born from
the ashes of their embrace— or envy it? Because when two
monsters fall in love, they do not tame each other. They make
a home of their fire. And the world, remains forever obsessed
with perfect edges, that it will never understand—how beautiful
the burn can be.
Only then, do you and I finally feel free.
