you make me burn.

often, things are tense between us,
that fine line between hate and love.
i say that they are mirror opposites,
twins with a mole on the other side.

you run your fingers down my face,
a touch light and unscathed.
sometimes things are delicate,
sometimes we're in the mosh-pit of life.

there is a chord you strike in me,
one that lies deep and feeble.
nameless, but radiant is
my passion and my anger.
so easily you throw me into frenzy
(and i'm afraid, like a rabid dog,
one day i'll be put down...)

sometimes things are gentle.
when i take you in my arms and
explain the wonders of the world.
there are seven of them. i wonder if i've found the eighth.

i don't know how you so quickly trip me up,
those hard lines and land mines waiting
for me to take one wrong step.
the fences that surround our harboring youth are
electricity and i'm often
shocked into awakening

but at least i feel.
at least you don't strike me numb.
at least i'm not winter with you.
i'm just waiting to be reborn,
just waiting for the sun to come out again between us.

09/10/2003

Author's Note: random.

Posted on 09/11/2003
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