When I met you
it was like a rift that existed
(in between me and I don't even know what)
was being stitched together
slowly at first,
one stitch at a time,
but with each stitch, there was a gentle pull
that cinched the rift tighter
it is rare to find someone who can so aptly put
life in a box and yet display its infinite nature,
all at the same time
it was short, quick, and intense
like a fire ripping through the forest of my soul
and as it illuminated each part of me
I recognized the uniqueness of the flame
each word you spoke fanning the fire
and I burned too hot and out of control
engulfed and soon reduced to ashes
from here, the metaphor seems obvious
doesn't it
but this time is different
the flame is out
and it is dark
when realities crumble
and paradigms shift
when time and space don't exist
when there was only ever this one moment
ever, ever. ever.
which moment is it that exists?
the moment when I met you?
the moment when the universe opened into
a vast and explicit world of possibilities
or the moment when we didn't know of each other
(if such a thing is even possible)
because now there is no rift in my heart,
but instead a pile of rubble,
yet to be discovered and dissected
oh, yes, they'll say, here is when her world
fell to pieces
carbon copying the date, attempting to reassemble
but what went wrong, they'll say
look how her heart was ablaze,
look at the fire--the light it created
look how brightly she shone, did she know?
and they'll shake their heads in the realization that this time
there was no phoenix
only dust from where I came
and where I returned.