like sparks dancing inside of a whirlwind,
you’d understand the ways I reach out
without ever extending a hand.
Nothing to torch your flesh with,
I have ways of my own to bind
the unknown places in you
where all light has receded.
The chambers in your heart grew
too turbulent to hold on to such glows.
The cold has flooded you there before,
imprinted every embrace with suspicion
when arms would lock around you and wait
for what once pulsed so fiercely,
mistaking your touch for a stone.
I didn’t need your slender hand
slipped into mine to know this,
enough knowledge and complicity
was born from our specific silence.
Because beneath the glimmering personas
you and I have so cautiously crafted,
you must remember that ghosts
are oblivious to certain tides,
that I won’t make a monster out of you.
I can chase after you in this ageless rite
of men rushing towards what cannot be tamed,
of trying to clutch a blinding spark
while the vortex rips me apart.
You would understand the ways
that you’ve been able to reach me
without ever extending a hand.
You have ways of your own
to bind two without thread or wire,
it may not be enough to still us for long.
But when my hands finally cup your face,
when our eyes unearth what once pulsed so fiercely,
do not ever mistake my heart for a stone.
You must remember that every ghost
and monster beneath this tide
were once unable to recede from our glow,
I only needed your touch to remember this.
Then you would understand why,
no matter how fleeting,
I can chase after every spark inside
the whirlwind spiraling around me.
