Love letter # 253
You who are my angel, you are my destroyer too – and I shall be neither the first nor the last to drown in the act of loving.
This is the vessel of my sorrow, the broken raft of my undelivered fury. Like nails in me. Pretty, pretty punctures leftover from your kiss.
How the stars have turned to darkness – and the darkness now to light. Burning out my eyes. Too bright to be denied.
The wave may be too strong this time; more than passing through. The ties that hold the walls in place are snapped and frayed and loose. Useless now. For things are coming to their pitch – the voices all at once. My usual tricks have had their play. See through, stupid games.
The pills, the lies, the stoic pose. No dam against this flood. The levee bank is leaking blood. How much shall drain away?
It is a dangerous path this one. My feet are landing blind. Salvation wears a frightful mask – a face so damned and strained – and I cannot tell which is which. So shall I have the grace to fall, to land where I shall land? To risk the breaking I have feared or the silence I have craved?