Behind the door of passion, lust, infatuation lies an even darker place
where few choose to venture.
A place, akin to unselfish loyalty, cemented with desire,
yet more sinister, more angelic.
Love is the misguided thought yet it's truth is a sugary sweet, teeth clenched facsimile
of said thought
that will knock you down to get at your heart.
The energy of this dark is the wrath of all of what it is to truly want, crave.
Here, the earth stands still.
Moans and sweat represent serenity and tranquility
as dancing cells of self worth circuit themselves about you.
In this cold, treacherous place, the acquisition of lustrous trinkets,
to express what can be expressed with a simple kiss,
is acquired with a dangerous fervor.
None are immune to its pull and perceived beauty such as this.
Engulfed in this dark, the instinctual energy, to protect what is fragile in us,
is diverted away,
pulling with it sense and logic,
pride and integrity, concept and function.
All that is left is emotionality and the need to make this feeling last for as long as it can.
Oh to have. To trade shiny ornaments to have.
To step away and to see all that we have: grand beauty. a frozen moment. a bribed smile.
In that is the weakness.
That frigid steely want that clenches the spine.
This dark deception invades and destroys the delicate tenderness we long to share.
Be weary frail heart. true love cannot be bought.
You cannot grasp at it to hold.
It opens itself up for you to fall into.
It is not in the sweat of bodies yet it embodies the sweetest nectar that is the joining of flesh.
It is child-like freeing laughter not the clenching disruptive jealousy of an absent instance.
Feel with caution
so that you can love with reckless abandon.